Modern 
Lyrics 


273 


GIFT   OF 


trf 


GEORGE   DEERING   HOOK 


MODERN  LYRICS 


BY 


GEORGE  DEERING  HOOK 

-U;*iQ  BEACH,  <m£Fc 


COPYRIGHT,    1916 
Y    GEORGE    D.    HOOK 


PRESS   OF 

SEASIDE    PRINTING    CO, 
LONG  BEACH.  CAL. 

1916 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A  Word  to  the  Reader 

My  Harp  

Old   Settlers'   Picnic   

Memories    Stream    

Having  the  Form  of  Godliness 16 

The  Unwelcomed  Babe 17 

Abraham's  Sacrifice  

Sinking  of  the  Lusitania 24 

Brain    26 

Egyptian  Mummy's  Hand  Soliloquy....  27 

Navigation    

Why  Death  Was  Necessary 

Christian  Insincerity  

A  Lone  Dove 

Jesus  Still  On  Life's  Duty  Road 33 

God's  Realm  

Slim  Chance  For  Life 35 

Iowa  in  Fifty-Two 36 

Redemption  a  Tragic  Act 39 

Between  the  Past  and  Future  I  Stand....  41 

They  Pumped  Blood  in  His  Veins 42 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  in  the  Fifties 44 

What  is  Language? 45 

The  Meadow  Long  Ago 47 

Song  of  the  Ocean 48 

God  is  With  Us 50 

The  Engrafter  52 

California    54 

The  Mocking  Birds'  Nest 56 

3 


Contents. 

PAGE 

Jonah  59 

The  Ride  in  the  Baggage  Car 63 

Rally  to  the  Flag — Who  Are  Its  Foes? 66 

A  Prayer  68 

All  Conquests  Fail 70 

The  Home  Out  of  Doors 72 

Prayer  of  Consecration 73 

Riddle  of  the  Ages 74 

Vesuvius    81 

The  Snail  and  the  Bird 89 

A  Mirror  of  the  Ages 90 

Mummy  Head 91 

The  King  of  the  Jews 94 

The  Lake  of  Genesaret 95 

To  the  Unknown  Hero 96 

Jacob   97 

An  Inner  Light 100 

A  Childless  Home 101 

The  Sight  of  God 103 

Inspiration   104 

Galilee 105 

Lincoln    106 

Echoes  of  His  Voice 107 

Good  Old  Days  Are  Gone 108 

Know  Not  All  That  Jesus  Taught 109 

Our  Teacher  Who  Taught  Christ 110 

Hunger  Cause  of  Greed Ill 

Childhood  Home  in  Hoosier  Swamps 112 

Bewildered   113 

Internal  Dangers  114 

Not  the  Bucket  But  the  Boy 115 

4 


Contents. 

PAGE 

Who  is  a  Murderer? 117 

Nut  Gathering  in  Iowa 118 

He  Found  No  Rhyme  for  Cupid 120 

Comrades    '. 121 

Old  Erin 122 

The  White  Man  and  the  Red 123 

Nothing  Stingy  About  God 124 

The  Old  Story 125 

Each  Age  Once  Modern 126 

The  Song  of  Christ 127 

Trees  Have  Their  Own  Feeling 128 

Coming  Home  129 

Where  Golden  Rule  Don't  Apply 130 

The  Dog  and  the  Wolf 131 

Sixty  Years  Ago  in  Iowa 132 

The  Little  Stream 134 

Simplicity  of  Faith  135 

Custom  Was  to  Eat  the  Sacrifice 136 

Be  Kind  to  the  Lowly 137 

Beauties  of  Art  and  Nature  Contrasted 138 

Man's  Habitation  139 

The  Indian  and  the  Snail 140 

This  Feed  is  Dry 141 

Reflections  on  the  Sand  Bags 142 

Remembering   the    Sparrows 143 

The  Wolf  and  the  Gentleman 144 

Consistency  a  Jewel 144 

Two  Little  Chicks 145 

Her  Charms  146 

The  Upper  Fold  Thinning  Out 147 

A  Heavenly  Swing 148 

Each  a  Part  of  This  World 149 

5 


Contents. 

PAGE 

The  Red  Man,  the  White,  Then  the  Jap 150 

Written  After  Attending  C.  S.  Church 151 

The  Home  of  Old  Time 152 

The  Invisible  Architect 153 

Looking  at  a  Pace 153 

From  Omaha  to  Golden  Gate 154 

Flesh  the  Servant  of  Mind 158 

Twinkle  Little  Star 159 

Who  Told  You? 160 

What  is  Life? 160 

The  Deutschland 161 

Why  Heaven's  Rest 162 

Don't  Blame  Me 163 

Unseen  Forces  164 

Recollection  164 

Two  Years  in  the  Fight 165 

Design  in  Man's  Frame 166 

Endless  Chain  167 

The  High-Heeled  Shoes 168 

The  Indians  Had  No  Domestic  Animals 169 

Drifting  ; 170 

Brotherhood  of  Man 171 

Enlightening  the  Evangelist 173 

An  Invisible  Hand 173 

The  Unseen  Hand 174 

The  Lips  Beneath  the  Rose 175 

Silent  Powers  175 

The  Lost  Cupids 176 

How  »  Swarm  of  Bees  Went  to  School 177 

The  Devil  Loses  His  Job 179 

The  Barren  Coast  181 

6 


Contents. 

PAGE 

Empty  Profession  183 

Poets    184 

An  Invisible  Ladder 183 

Departing  Day  184 

Pass  On  185 

All  Days  Equal  Worth 185 

Bright  Eyes  186 

Who?    187 

A  Star  In  the  Sky  For  Me 187 

I  See  All  Worlds 188 

Mother  Looking  at  Her  Boy's  Picture 189 

A  Complete   Sacrifice 189 

Doubting  Thomas  190 

Weakest  Link 191 

The  Seen  Born  of  the  Unseen 192 

Soul's  Last  Refuge 193 

Approach  of  a  Ship 194 

The  Star  of  Bethlehem 195 

Tell  Me  of  Spring 196 

God's  Way  the  Best 198 

Semi-Gods  199 

The  Voice  of  Creation....  „  200 


A  WORD  TO  THE  READER. 

"Not  what  he  learned  from  books, 

Not  what  the  teacher  said; 
'Twas  what  he  learned  from  brooks 

And  from  the  leaves  o'er  head." 

Not  till  seventy  years  had  rolled  around  did  the 
Author  know  or  suspect  that  he  belonged  to  the 
bards. 

These  poems  are  not  studied,  they  come  from 
the  subconscious  mind.  Like  the  rill  or  creek  they 
flow  from  their  own  impetus  and  follow  their  own 
course  or  channel  through  the  verdant  fields.  Not 
a  line  or  verse  is  borrowed.  Most  of  them  were 
written  under  the  inspiration  of  the  moment.  "The 
Meadow  Long  Ago"  was  written  sitting  on  the 
swath  half  mowed  and  the  scythe  by  his  side,  and 
"The  Song  of  The  Ocean"  with  the  echo  of  the 
waves  in  his  ear. 

No  one  is  as  surprised  as  the  Author,  and  if  the 
reader  is  pleased  he  will  be  doubly  gratified.  To 
his  faithful  wife,  who  saw  in  them  a  beauty  and 
thereby  encouraged  him,  are  they  dedicated. 


• 
• 


MY  HARP. 

God  made  my  harp  and  plays  on  strings 

The  music  that  He  wills, 
His  finger's  touch  sweet  music  brings 

My  soul  with  rapture  fills. 

I  hear  the  echoes  from  the  stars 

When  all  is  silent  round, 
The  far  off  notes  without  a  jar 

That  fill  the  Heavens  with  sound. 

He  puts  the  harp  in  tune  to  play 
With  chords  to  suit  His  voice, 

And  then  I  hear  His  sweetest  lay 
That  makes  my  heart  rejoice. 

Sometimes  He  plays  the  minor  key 

Whene'er  my  soul  is  sad, 
A  soft  sweet  chord  alone  for  me 

He  soothes  and  makes  me  glad. 

The  golden  harp  He'll  give  to  me 

Across  the  silvery  stream, 
I'll  sing  the  notes  so  full  and  free 

Of  which  on  earth  I  dream. 


11 


OLD  SETTLER'S  PICNIC. 

(Guthrie  Co.,  Iowa,  Sept.  3,  1915.) 

Beneath  this  grove  again  I  rove, 

Oft  here  when  but  a  boy; 
My  heart  doth  burn  to  now  return 

And  clasp  your  hands  with  joy. 

'Twas  by  this  stream  when  child  I  dreamed 

Of  future  with  no  fears ; 
With  life  most  past  we  come  at  last 

To  now  review  those  years. 

Now  comes  in  sight  past  days  so  bright 

When  we  were  children  here ; 
We  played  on  green  in  many  a  scene 

By  rippling  stream  so  clear. 

These  three  score  years  have  known  some  tears, 

Left  furrows  on  our  cheeks ; 
We  joys  have  known  in  years  now  flown, 

'Tis  smiles  today  we  seek. 

While  time  has  flown  new  trees  have  grown, 

The  old  ones  passed  away ; 
And  faces  new  appear  in  view, 

The  old  ones — where  are  they? 

The  log  canoe  that,  then,  Frank  knew, 

Has  sunk  beneath  the  wave, 
To  tree  on  shore  is  chained  no  more — 

Tree,  too,  has  found  a  grave. 
12 


And  Frank  and  May,  who  used  to  play 

And  ride  in  this  canoe, 
Have  drifted  far  across  the  bar — 

We'd  send  them  greeting,  too. 

I've  crossed  the  brine  to  view  the  Rhine 

Flow  by  her  castle  towers, 
But  here  we  played  in  childhood  days, 

Have  known  no  happier  hours. 

In  native  land  again  I  stand 
And  breathe  her  air  so  free ; 

It  is  my  home  where  e'er  I  roam, 
No  other  dear  like  thee. 

Lo,  some  have  gone  to  Oregon, 
And  some  to  Kansas  strayed, 

And  some  remained  and  riches  gained — 
They  found  how  well  it  paid. 

Some  left  their  all  at  country's  call, 
And  sleep  'neath  sunny  sod ; 

We  drop  a  tear,  their  memory's  dear, 
And  bow  to  will  of  God. 


13 


MEMORIES  STREAM. 

Had  rained  that  night — next  day  is  bright 

And  snow  is  melting  fast, 
I  sit  on  ledge  by  river's  edge 

And  watch  loosed  trees  drift  past. 

By  memories  stream  I  muse  and  dream, 

Of  all  the  days  gone  by, 
Of  scenes  once  dear  in  memory  clear 

Seem  now,  to  pass  so  nigh. 

The  snow  in  hills  had  turned  to  rills 
And  tears  have  filled  my  eyes, 

For  forms  I  loved  now  gone  above, 
In  memory  plainly  rise. 

My  mother's  face  I  plainly  trace, 

My  trundle  bed  I  see ; 
Her  kneeling  form,  both  night  and  morn, 

How  oft  she  knelt  by  me. 

The  old  fireplace,  each  well  known  face, 
The  chairs  around  the  hearth, 

Where  each  one  sat,  and  e'en  the  cat 
And  every  childish  mirth. 

The  dinner  plate  where  each  one  ate, 

The  bench  along  the  wall, 
Each  outdoor  fun  and  how  we  run 

At  Mother's  well  known  call. 
14 


The  old  home  scene,  the  yard  so  green, 

The  garden  and  the  fence; 
The  orchard  trees,  now  fancy  please 

In  memory  floated  hence. 

Now  comes  in  view  school  days  I  knew, 

The  children  on  the  green, 
And  many  a  face  I  now  can  trace, 

Long  passed  from  earthly  scene. 

Their  happy  glee  again  I  see 
Tho  many  years  have  passed 

Since  on  the  slope  they  jumped  the  rope 
And  chased  each  other  fast. 

While  in  my  teens  pass  many  scenes 

Forgotten,  came  in  view 
On  memories  stream  now  clearly  seen 

Each  one  I  ever  knew. 

My  fishing  pole — our  swimming  hole 
Swings  round  the  bend  in  view, 

The  old  saw  mill  around  the  hill 
Pass  now  in  quick  review. 

The  boys  on  log  stretch  up  like  frogs 

Into  the  water  spring ; 
Then  swim  around  till  footing  found, 

While  woods  with  laughter  ring. 

The  old  grist  mill  that's  never  still 

In  view  comes  further  down, 
Where  farmers  wait  from  morn  till  late 

To  get  their  grist,  when  ground. 
15 


Upon  the  hill  in  church  yard  still, 

I  saw  white  marble  stand, 
The  words  on  each  some  moral  teach 

And  point  to  better  land. 

Like  night's  fair  dreams  in  memories  stream, 

While  time  doth  ever  flow 
Here,  back  and  forth  in  endless  course 

Pass  scenes  of  long  ago. 


HAVING  THE  FORM  OF  GODLINESS 

The  Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  fine, 
It  must  have  been  inspired ; 

But  will  not  do  for  present  time, 
Tho  much  by  us  admired. 

We  boast  about  our  orchard  trees, 
And  dote  about  their  names ; 

And  much  about  their  bark  and  leaves 
Explain  from  whence  they  came. 

"But  what  about  the  fruit  they  bear?" 

Well,  that  we  never  ate; 
The  name  is  all  for  which  we  care — 

The  fruit  is  out  of  date. 
16 


THE  UNWELCOMED  BABE. 

(A  Little  Baby  Boy  Found  Floating  in  a  Box  in  the  Harbor 
Suggested  This  Touching  Poem.) 

To  a  mother  is  born  in  a  palace  grand 

A  much  honored  babe,  the  heir  of  the  throne, 

"  Tis  a  boy"  is  cabled  o'er  ocean  and  land, 
To  islands  and  regions  remote  'tis  borne. 

To  an  orphan  alone  God  sends  a  dear  child, 
Whose  love  was  betrayed  by  a  moment  of  joy ; 

Her  heart  strings  are  fluttering  in  a  tempest  so 

wild, 
What  matters  it  now  that  her  babe  is  a  boy. 

Her  babe  is  the  heir  to  a  life  of  disgrace 
Should  coming  to  world  ever  be  known ; 

His  footprints  on  earth  no  human  must  trace, 
The  bosom  of  Mother  her  babe  must  disown. 

Yet  little  she  knew  how  immortal  the  soul 
Born  from  the  darkness,  in  heaven  to  shine ; 

Nor  little  she  thought  when  God  calls  the  roll 
Would  say,     "Dear  Mother   and    child    you're 


In  a  rude  little  box  she  places  her  babe, 

While  lips  are  still  wet  from  milk  from  her 

breast ; 

Down  deep  in  her  heart  she  wishes  to  save, 
With  tears  in  her  eyes  she  views  him  at  rest. 
17 


In  the  little  frail  box  she  places  a  stone, 
One  at  his  head,  then  one  at  his  feet ; 

Her  heart  is  in  tune  with  ocean's  deep  moan 
While  bearing  the  box  the  ocean  to  meet. 

With  her  own  weak  hand  she  gives  it  a  shove, 
Though  expected  to  sink,  it  rides  on  the  wave; 

Her  Father  looks  down  from  the  skies  above 
And  claims  it  for  Heaven  as  she  reaches  to  save. 

While  she  stretches  her  arms  it  sends  her  a  cry, 
Fainter  and  fainter  as  it  floats  from  her  reach ; 

Her  heart  strings  are  breaking,  she  answers  with 

sigh, 
While  her  God  draws  near  to  heal,  and  to  teach. 

In  the  light  of  the  moon  babe  floated  away ; 

God's  angels  were  guarding  its  voyage  to  the 

deep; 
Its  spirit  so  pure  no  longer  might  stay, 

From  the  snares    of  the  world,     God's  mercy 
would  keep. 

With  hot  briny  tears  she  sought  her  low  couch, 
At  the  depths    of  her    crime    her    soul    took 
affright ; 

She  ventured  to  pray  as  lower  she  crouched, 
In  the  gloom  of  her  heart  God  sent  a  new  light. 

So,  well  she  knew  now  her  child  was  at  home, 
Though  victim  of  crime,  he  was  innocent  and 
pure; 

But  long  she  must  wander  without  him  alone, 
Of  meeting  again  she  now  would  make  sure. 

Born  to  misfortune  she  was  object  of  talk, 

And  soon  it  was  rumored  that  something  was 
wrong ; 

Though  careful  she  lived,  a  specter  now  ?talked, 
She  wearied  of  life,  the  journey  seemed  long. 

18 


At  the  end  of  her  days  like  a  leaf  that  must  fall. 
She  lay  in  a  box  at  the  edge  of  the  tide. 

As  the  waves  rolled  on  she  heard  her  child  call, 
Then,  floated  away  on  the  ocean  so  wild. 

By  chance  or  God's  will  she  settled  by  babe, 
With  a  stone  for  a  pillow,  and  one  at  her  feet ; 

The  Father  in  Heaven  looked  down  on  the  \vave, 
Each  atom  of  dust  forever  will  keep. 

The  grave  of  the  mother  and  child  will  be  one, 
When  God  shall  garner  the  treasures  of  deep ; 

Their  spirits  immortal  to  Heaven  have  gone, 
Angelic  in  form  and  body  they  meet. 

Not  as  they  parted  so  sad  by  t,he  wave, 

Their  arms  outstretched,    with  gladness  they 
greet ; 

Their  Father  in  Heaven  forever  doth  save, 
Oh,  life  eternal  with  Him  will  be  sweet. 

The  child  of  the  king  was  stained  with  all  crime, 
And  blood  of  the  millions  that  surged  at  his  feet ; 

Though  outwardly  robed,  in  nature  a  swine, 
The  portion  of  needy  formed  daily  his  meet. 

As  ages  surged  by,  he  heard  the  sad  i  aoan 

Of  the  widows  and  orphans  on  earth  he  had 
made; 

In  a  far-off  cave  God  heard  his  deep  groan, 
And  listened  in  kindness  and  pity  to  save. 

White  as  the  lily  that  floats  on  the  wave. 

The  stains  of  the  mother  were  washed  by  her 

tears ; 

Restored  to  her  breast  was  her  own  pure  babe, 
In  the  sweet  haven  of  rest  now  endless  their 
years. 

19 


ABRAHAM'S  SACRIFICE 

Could  God  who  said,  "Thou  shalt  not  kill," 

Bid  Abram  kill  his  son? 
The  men  who  thus  impeach  God's  Word, 

Let  honest  people  shun. 

The  lifted  hand  to  slay  his  son 

Was  stained  with  blood  in  thought ; 

"Twas  not  revenge  nor  shining  gold, 
A  heavenly  crown  he  sought. 

The  sin  in  thought,  and  not  in  deed, 

The  lesson  Jesus  taught. 
How  deep  the  stain  on  Abram's  soul 

As  this  lone  place  he  sought. 

Three  days  he  came  with  knife  and  fire, 

His  son  he  bound  to  wood ; 
His  gleaming  blade  flashed  in  the  sun, 

Beside  his  child  he  stood. 

He  heard  a  voice  and  turned  to  look, 

A  ram  was  waiting  near; 
The  prize  was  won,  his  son  was  saved, 

His  great  renown  we  hear. 

He  loosed  his  child  and  burnt  the  ram 

Upon  the  funeral  pile; 
No  saint  so  pure  but  lauds  the  deed — 

A  stain  on  age  so  vile. 
20 


How  could  a  man  with  father's  heart 

Conceive  this  bloody  deed? 
He  surely  lived  in  bloody  age, 

He  raised  a  bloody  seed. 

The  altars  of  the  house  they  built, 

Run  red  with  bloody  gore ; 
No  guilt  or  sin  was  washed  away 

Till  blood  like  rivers  pour. 

They  said  that  God  would  see  the  blood, 
The  burning  flesh  would  smell ; 

But  priests  around  the  altar  lived, 
Their  stomachs  fared  quite  well. 

Of  sheep  and  oxen  thousands  slain, 
They  got  their  share  of  food ; 

The  people  brought  their  sacrifice — 
To  priest,  it  tasted  good. 

The  victims  all  have  changed  to  One 

He  hung  upon  the  Cross, 
That  God  might  look  upon  the  blood, 

Have  pity  on  the  lost. 

Still  priests,  around  the  altar  live, 
Sometimes  the  people  bleed, 

The  offering  to  the  Lord  their  gain, 
Upon  the  flock  they  feed. 

A  preacher  comes  and  tells  his  flock 

That  they  must  consecrate, 
That  God  above  gave  up  His  Son, 

No  sacrifice  too  great. 
21 


Collections  come,  he  calls  for  names, 

They  pass  around  the  plate ; 
His  eye  is  on  the  sacrifice 

He  hopes  that  each  will  make. 

Again  he  tells  of  Abram's  faith, 

How  bright  a  crown  he  won, 
How  on  God's  altar  all  must  lay 

If  Abram's  crown  is  won. 

"My  all  is  on  the  altar  laid," 

They  sing  it  o'er  and  o'er; 
They  pray  that  fire  from  heaven  may  come, 

They  pray  for  more  and  more. 

They  each  proclaim  the  victory  won, 

One  gave  a  child  and  wife 
To  gain  the  fadeless  diadem — 

He  tells  how  great  the  price. 

He  homeward  wends  his  moody  way, 

He  thinks  of  Abram's  crown, 
To  gain  a  shining  diadem 

He'd  lay  earth's  idols  down. 

His  wife  and  child  see  in  his  eye 

The  look  of  something  far; 
He  sees  a  heavenly  diadem, 

'Tis  set  with  star  on  star. 

He  enters  with  a  gleaming  knife, 

He  grasps  the  child  by  arm ; 
The  mother  screams  to  no  avail, 

She  would  protect  from  harm. 
22 


By  bloody  deed  they  both  are  slain — 

The  preacher  is  to  blame ; 
He  told  them  Abram  won  a  crown, 

And  he  would  win  the  same. 

Will  sight  of  blood  increase  God's  love? 

Why  hold  up  human  gore? 
Think  you  a  thousand  streams  of  blood 

Could  make  God  love  us  more  ? 

A  mother's  love  is  built  on  love, 

And  all  her  love  in  store 
She  freely  gives  her  helpless  child, 

Her  heart  an  open  door. 

The  many  lessons  Jesus  taught 

Were  those  of  simple  love ; 
The  wandering  boy,  the  prodigal 

Holds  out  a  hope  above. 

The  father  did  not  turn  from  boy 
And  tell  him  bring  a  priest ; 

He  saw  the  streaming  tears  in  eyes, 
Prepared  his  son  a  feast. 

Christ  did  not  talk  of  blood  and  gore 

To  buy  us  from  our  sins; 
He  told  of  good  Samaritan 

That  helped  the  man  to  inn. 


SINKING  OF  THE  LUSITANIA. 

(This  poem  was  written  after  reading  of  the  sinking  of 
the  Lusitania.) 

In  pathless  deep  new  terrors  sleep, 

Death  hides  beneath  the  wave, 
And  lurks  in  way  to  kill  and  slay 

And  fill  his  ready  grave. 

Two  thousand  told — both  young  and  old, 

So  full  of  happy  glee ; 
In  sight  of  land  to  clasp  the  hand 

With  loved  ones  soon  to  be. 

A  sudden  shock — then  urgent  knock, 
Death's  summons  all  could  hear; 

Ship  called  for  aid — all  haste  was  made, 
She  sank  ere  help  was  near. 

The  mother  gasped — then  baby  clasped 

Upon  the  wave  she  fell ; 
Sister,  brother,  father,  mother, 

Bade  each  a  last  farewell. 

Not  sudden  fears  nor  blinding  tears 

Could  drown  the  awful  rush ; 
No  wealth  of  charms  could  death  disarm, 

The  roaring  billows  hush. 

A  thousand  strong  composed  the  throng 

Who  sank  beneath  the  wave; 
They  heard  the  call,  and  left  their  all, 

Among  them  were  the  brave. 
24 


The  vessel  tipped — then  reeled  and  dipped, 
One  gazed  o'er  wreck  he'd  made 

And  thought  of  fame — undying  name 
In  history  never  fade. 

The  sun  looks  down  on  waves  around, 

Reveals  the  carnage  wrought; 
The  living  call — he's  dead  to  all, 

No  needed  aid  he  brought. 

The  golden  hair  of  maidens  fair 

Were  now  of  sea  a  part, 
Their  glaring  eyes  upturned  to  skies 

Ne'er  touched  his  stony  heart. 

More  God-like  built  was  Vanderbilt, 

Who  trembling  woman  met. 
Unloosed  his  belt,  beside  her  knelt, 

Around  her  waist  it  met. 

His  heart  was  stirred — her  life  preserved, 

He  sank  beneath  the  wave ; 
In  history  told — should  ne'er  grow  old 

A  deed  so  kind  and  brave. 

He  could  not  swim — till  time  grows  dim 

He'll  rest  beneath  the  wave, 
But  stars  look  down  on  all  around 

Undimmed,  will  watch  his  grave. 

While  sea  remains,  the  brand  of  Cain 

Will  rest  on  murderer's  brow; 
The  waves  will  moan  where  deed  is  known 

While  ships  the  ocean  plow. 
25 


BRAIN. 

The  swiftest  feet  and  sharpest  horns, 

Unequal  match  for  brains, 
Has  come  beneath  the  yoke  of  man, 

Their  neck  has  felt  his  reins. 
Their  sharpest  teeth,  most  deadly  claws, 

No  match  for  steel  and  ball, 
Now  gently  purr  at  feet  of  man, 

Submissive  to  his  call. 

Their  fleece  and  furs  by  nature  grown, 

Protection  from  the  cold, 
Are  used  by  needy  naked  man ; 

By  him  are  bought  and  sold. 
The  helpless  race  has  master  grown, 

While  those  equipped  for  life, 
Have  yielded  to  the  sway  of  man 

Or  perished  in  the  strife. 

Front  limbs  have  raised  and  grown  him  hands, 

His  brain  has  reared  his  head, 
His  feet  in  realms  untrod  before 

Are  now  by  wisdom  led. 
The  infant  babe  in  mother's  arms, 

Most  helpless  life  of  all, 
Is  armed  with  power  that  sways  strong  hearts, 

Obedient  to  its  call. 

Man's  natural  lack  which  creatures  had, 
Has  been  his  greatest  gain, 
26 


His  strife  to  get  what  e'er  he  lacked, 
Has  caused  his  growth  of  brain. 

No  fins,  his  home  is  on  the  deep; 
No  wings,  he  sails  the  air ; 

His  feet  are  slow,  he  takes  the  train ; 
And  reaches  Heaven  by  prayer. 


EGYPTIAN  MUMMY'S  HAND  SOLILOQUY. 

Belonged  sometime  to  babe, 

With  mother's  heart  strings  played. 

A  mother's  fancy  pleased, 
With  fingers  on  her  knees. 

When  palm  has  larger  grown, 
A  fortune  moulds  its  own. 

That  hand  another  grasped, 

A  wife,  a  child,  it  clasped. 
For  loved  ones  worked  and  plied 

From  morn  'till  eventide. 
A  load  a  burden  bore 

And  laid  at  open  door. 

Now  folded  on  his  breast, 

Has  ceased  from  toil  to  rest. 
Feels  not  the  pulse  of  time, 

Tho'  once  it  throbbed  like  mine. 
His  span  of  life  is  past, 

For  naught  will  ever  grasp. 
27 


NAVIGATION. 

In  early  ages  of  the  race 

Man  swam  across  the  stream, 
But  one  with  brains  instead  of  fins 

Climbed  on  a  log,  it  seems. 
Perched  on  the  log  with  wife  and  babe, 

He  pushed  across  the  stream, 
When  wiser  grown  he  dug  it  out, 

Made  rude  canoe,  it  seems. 

As  brain  enlarged  new  ideas  came, 

He  bent  some  poles  in  shape ; 
Then  stretched  about  it  bark  and  skins 

And  launched  it  out  on  lake. 
In  place  of  hands  he  made  some  oars 

To  row  his  boat  about ; 
He  later  learned  the  use  of  sails 

When  wind  was  long  his  route. 

In  time  he  learned  to  saw  the  trees 

And  build  them  into  ships ; 
With  spreading  sails  to  catch  the  breeze 

On  seas  he  made  his  trips. 
In  time  he  learned  the  use  of  steam, 

This  takes  the  place  of  sails, 
And  shoves  the  ships  with  mighty  force 

Against  the  strongest  gales. 

Now  toughest  steel  displaces  wood, 
The  ship  braves  storms  and  fog ; 

28 


A  palace  home  for  thousand  souls 
Because  man  climbed  a  log. 

The  fish  with  fins  instead  of  brains 
Kept  swimming  on  in  sea, 

While  man  who  lacks  all  else  but  brains 
A  thousand  times  more  free. 


29 


WHY  DEATH  WAS  NECESSARY. 

• 
An  angel  sat  on  ocean  sand 

And  counted  every  grain. 
Another  sat  on  desert  land 

And  called  each  grain  by  name. 

They  sit  on  earth  and  atoms  count 

On  every  hill  and  plain. 
I  saw  the  total  'mount 

They  wrote  in  figures  plain. 

Each  grain  was  numbered  in  their  book, 
From  where  each  atom  came. 

Inventory  complete  they  took, 
Gave  credit  for  each  grain. 

They  figured  now  with  solemn  look 

Enough  to  make  each  man, 
And  all  the  millions  that  it  took 

To  form  the  fields  they'd  planned. 

They  figured  then  for  future  years 

When  generations  rise. 
I  plainly  saw  in  face  their  f earh 

As  figures  grew  in  size. 

They  figured  then  on  all  they'd  eat, 
More  fields  to  grow  the  grain. 

They  saw  their  atoms  would  not  meet 
So  great  would  be  the  drain. 
30 


They  said  Old  Time  is  very  long, 
Man's  days  must  be  but  few. 

Then  Time  can  bring  new  millions  on, 
That  seems  the  best  to  do. 

They  then  gave  out  that  man  must  die, 

As  atoms  are  too  few. 
Why  should  you  sigh  when  one  so  nigh 

Must  leave  a  place  for  you. 


CHRISTIAN  INSINCERITY. 

"Forgive  us  Lord  as  we  forgive," 

The  Christians  love  to  pray ; 
Then  ask  the  Lord  that  they  may  live, 

When  they  go  out  to  slay. 

"We  are  redeemed"  I  hear  them  sing; 

Redeemed  from  what  I'd  know? 
Is  it  from  selfishness  within, 

Or  any  other  foe  ? 

"We  are  blood  washed"  I  hear  them  say ; 

"Our  garments  white  as  snow." 
It  is  the  blood  of  those  they  slay, 

That  on  their  garments  show. 

"Ye  hypocrites,"  I  hear  Christ  say ; 

"You  lisp  the  prayer  I  taught, 
Invoking  wrath  each  time  you  pray, 

Then  claim  your  pardon's  bought." 
31 


A  LONE  DOVE. 

From  window  ledge  I  sat  and  gazed 

Far  out,  o'er  crest  of  sea 
And  longed  for  by-gone  happy  days 

With  one  who'd  flown  from  me. 

A  lonely  dove  had  lost  her  mate. 

She  came  to  comfort  me, 
And  flew  from  far  and  lit  on  gate, 

I  wished  my  heart  as  free. 

I  raised  the  window,  in  she  flew, 
And  perched  on  picture  frame 

Of  my  lost  mate,  and  then  I  knew 
From  her  my  birdie  came. 

I  longed,  but  dare  not  grasp  her  form, 

So  opened  wide  the  door, 
The  spirit  flew  to  cloudless  morn, 

The  body  fell  to  floor. 

The  bird  like  me  had  lost  her  mate, 

Of  life  had  weary  grown, 
She  could  not  live  on  earth  apart, 

Her  spirit  life  had  flown. 

Sweet  memory  holds  my  love  and  dove, 

Just  as  she  came  to  me, 
On  angel  wings  my  dove  and  love 

Has  flown,  dear  Lord,  to  Thee. 
32 


My  Father's  home  her  spirit  sought 

From  care  and  sorrow  free ; 
This  vision  brought  a  cheerful  thought, 

Some  day  she'll  send  for  me. 


JESUS  STILL  ON  LIFE'S  DUSTY  ROAD. 

Some  err  and  say  that  Christ  is  far 

He  left  this  world  to  stay; 
They  little  think  that  Christ  is  here 

And  walks  earth's  lonely  way. 

The  man  you  turned  away  from  door, 

Or  passed  in  rags  on  road, 
Had  you  but  known  that  he  was  Christ, 

You'd  helped  him  bear  his  load. 

Did  you  not  see  that  look  on  face, 

The  lines  of  sadness  there? 
Did  you  not  know  Christ  felt  his  pain, 

And  had  for  him  a  care  ? 

In  prison  cells  may  Christ  be  found, 

And  oft  on  beds  of  pain, 
If  you  shall  fail  to  help  Him  there, 

No  other  chance  you'll  gain. 
33 


GOD'S  REALM. 

The  Earth  is  seen,  has  meadows  green, 

And  all  spread  out  to  view ; 
But  out  of  sight  is  God  of  might, 

Is  plain  to  me  and  you. 

The  earth  is  old,  has  mines  of  gold, 

But  riches  pass  away ; 
There's  One  abides  whatever  betides, 

That's  why  to  Him  we  pray. 

The  world  is  gay,  but  that's  today, 

Tomorrow  it  is  sad ; 
There  is  a  joy  without  alloy, 

Of  this  we're  ever  glad. 

The  world  is  bright,  but  has  its  night, 

God  needs  no  light  to  see 
When  shadows  fall,  no  light  at  all, 

To  God,  your  refuge,  flee. 

God  is  a  friend,  will  comfort  lend, 

When  troubles  thick  assail ; 
Then  make  Him  yours  while  world  allures, 

Your  effort  will  avail. 

In  far  off  heights  are  new  delights, 

No  mortal  yet  has  known; 
Our  spirit  eye  shall  see  new  sky 

When  we  have  higher  flown. 
34 


There  is  a  well,  whose  depth  can  tell, 

Of  it  each  soul  may  drink, 
When  free  from  sin  will  rise  within, 

To  lips  from  crystal  brink. 

No  eye  has  seen  the  world  serene, 
The  realms  where  God  doth  dwell ; 

There  we  shall  roam  when  we  are  home, 
Its  raptures  who  can  tell. 


SLIM  CHANCE  FOR  LIFE. 

Had  father  married  dark  eyed  Jane 

Instead  of  maid  with  blue, 
Would  I  have  borne  my  father's  name 

Or  had  same  mother  true? 

Half  brother  to  myself  at  best, 

To  self  I'd  seem  so  queer; 
My  mind  would  never  know  sweet  rest 

I  tremble  now  with  fear. 

Had  grandpa  chose  another  lass, 

Instead  of  one  he  did, 
My  grandma  left  to  be  old  maid 

I  pity  pa  the  kid. 

Had  any  one  in  all  the  line 

From  Adam  down  to  pa 
Found  other  sweetheart  true  and  kind 

Would  I  have  known  my  ma? 
35 


IOWA  IN  FIFTY-TWO. 

Oh,  Iowa,  now  waving  fields, 

I  saw  when  plains  of  grass, 
And  prairie  schooners  from  the  East, 

Wound  slowly  as  they  passed. 
God  planted  streams,  all  fringed  with  trees. 

Across  these  grassy  plains; 
Here  farmers  flocked  from  swamps  and  woods, 

And  went  to  raising  grain. 

The  "Buckeye"  farmer  left  his  ax, 

The  "Hoosier,"  grubbing  hoe ; 
And  by  some  stream  on  grassy  plain 

Began  to  plant  and  sow. 
He  turned  the  level,  fertile  sod 

In  furrows,  dropped  the  corn, 
It  sprang  to  meet  the  coaxing  sun, 

He  smiled  each  sunny  morn. 

No  weeds  grew  up  to  vex  his  soul; 

The  ground  drank  in  the  showers ; 
In  fall  he  cribs  his  field  of  corn, 

And  thanks  the  Higher  powers. 
No  stumps'  to  dodge,  no  roots  to  grub, 

He  now  cross-plows  the  sod, 
And  has  a  virgin  field  of  ground, 

For  which  he  thanks  his  God. 
36 


He  cuts  and  hauls  his  winter  wood, 

Lays  up  his  fence  of  rails ; 
From  trees  in  groves  he  builds  his  house 

And  roofs  it  without  nails. 
The  floor  is  made  from  puncheons  split 

And  hewed  on  upper  side ; 
The  latch-string  out,  the  broad  fireplace 

Warm  welcome  doth  betide. 

The-  comely  home  had  warmth  and  cheer ; 

No  stranger  passed  the  door, 
A  welcome  guest  at  each  meal  time, 

They  knew  no  rich  or  poor. 
The  wagon  road  from  farm  to  farm 

Wound  through  the  prairie  grass, 
And  everyone  who  came  their  way 

Found  welcome  ere  they  passed. 

The  summer  long  the  cattle  grazed 

Upon  the  sloping  green; 
Each  farmer  mowed  and  stacked  his  hay 

From  valleys  set  between. 
The  calves  were  kept  in  pastures  fenced, 

The  cows  at  night  returned; 
The  children  meet  their  fathers'  steps ; 

Home  feelings  warmly  burned. 

When  hay  was  hauled,  and  grass  was  dry, 

The  prairie  fires  drew  nigh ; 
At  night,  could  see  them  far  away, 

Reflected  in  the  sky. 
The  deer  that  roamed  o'er  native  fields, 

Have  changed  to  blooded  stock ; 
37 


The  prairie  hens  that  brought  us  meat, 
Replaced  by  fancy  flocks. 

0  Iowa,  0  Iowa, 

In  memory  oft  I  roam ; 

1  see  the  school  house  made  of  logs, 

Each  little  humble  home. 
But  wagon  road  through  prairie  grass 

Has  changed  to  broad  highway ; 
The  old  log  house  and  those  I  knew, 

Long  since  have  passed  away. 


38 


REDEMPTION  A  TRAGIC  ACT. 

Redemption  is  man's  tragic  act, 

His  part  in  holy  plan; 
Has  blood  made  blood  a  Christian  act  ? 

Speak  up,  poor  bloody  man. 

Now  was  the  slaying  of  His  Son 

A  part  of  holy  plan? 
How  could  the  pure  and  sinless  One 

Thus  stain  the  hand  of  man? 

The  offering  up  of  Abram's  son 

Was  never  made  in  fact — 
Would  God,  the  pure  and  Holy  One, 

Complete  the  bloody  act? 

Is  God  so  poor  he  needs  the  price 

Of  man's  redemption  fee? 
Does  He  desire  a  sacrifice 

That  He  the  blood  may  see? 

In  ages  past  the  priest  began 

His  work  of  sacrifice, 
And  blood  around  the  altars  ran, 

Oh,  God,  was  this  Thy  price? 

And  many  a  human  victim  burned 
To  cool  God's  awful  wrath ; 

And  every  way  man  seemed  to  turn 
Death  lay  across  his  path. 
39 


But  priest  conceived  new  sacrifice 
In  Christ,  whom  they  had  slain; 

They  said  His  blood  would  now  suffice 
His  death  was  now  their  gain. 

They  even  claimed  He  was  ordained 

To  die  upon  the  cross, 
That  sinners  lost  might  be  reclaimed, 

God's  Son  the  price  it  cost. 

But  has  the  blood  for  sinners  shed, 
Made  white  their  crimson  stain? 

Has  it  to  love  and  mercy  led? 
Speak  up !  thou  millions  slain. 

Redemption  is  an  empty  fact 

For  man  is  yet  in  sin ; 
He  stoops  to  any  beastly  act 

And  wades  through  blood  to  win. 

Turn  back,  Oh,  man,  from  bloody  way, 

For  God,  like  Christ,  is  kind: 
Why  should  you  stray,  Christ  points  the  way, 

Your  leaders  they  are  blind. 


40 


BETWEEN  THE  PAST  AND  FUTURE  I 
STAND. 

O'er  magnitude  of  time  that's  past 
Towards  endless  years  to  come, 

I  gaze  from  crest  between  two  seas 
Which  is  the  vaster  one? 

The  sea  that's  past  doth  larger  grow 

As  endless  ages  roll, 
But  does  that  make  the  future  less 

Tho  time  takes  ceaseless  toll? 

How  strange  that  I  should  stand  on  crest 
Where  past  and  future  meet, 

And  look  both  ways  at  endless  sea 
Whose  waves  roll  past  my  feet. 

Tonight  I  stand  and  gaze  on  stars 
That  mark  the  distant  shore, 

Where  time  has  rolled  in  ages  past 
Drift  nigh,  oh  future  store. 

Those  stars  seem  fixed  shall  float  away 
On  time's  great  moving  stream, 

New  world  come  floating  into  view 
By  future  ages  seen. 

So  vast  is  space  that  all  the  stars 

In  time  may  float  this  way, 
In  that  abyss  to  us  unknown 

God  guides  them  on  their  way. 

41 


THEY  PUMPED  BLOOD  IN  HIS  VEINS. 

They  turn  more  water  in  the  mill 
When  wheels  were  turning  slow ; 

The  slackened  wheels  renew  their  grind, 
More  water  makes  them  go. 

They  pump  more  blood  into  his  viens, 

For  life  was  ebbing  low. 
The  crest  of  life  rose  high  again 

As  blood  in  currents  flow. 

Tis  not  the  water  grinds  the  grain, 

It  only  lends  the  power 
That  turns  the  wheels  from  eye  unseen, 

And  thus  produce  the  flour. 

The  blood  that  turns  the  wheels  of  thought, 

Unseen  within  the  brain, 
Is  like  the  water  lends  its  power 

To  wheels  that  grind  the  grain. 

The  stream  that  flows  from  distant  hills 

Will  start  the  mill  to  grind ; 
So  blood  from  man  tho  no  akin, 

Will  turn  the  wheels  of  mind. 

How  strange  it  seems  that  other's  blood 
Should  cause  our  thoughts  to  flow, 

And  give  us  pleasures  all  our  own 
And  mind  to  think  and  know. 
42 


So  food  we  eat  of  flesh  or  grain 

Becomes  a  flowing  stream 
That  turns  the  wheels  of  thought  in  brain 

May  grind  us  pleasant  dreams. 

The  wheels  in  mill  will  move  again 

Tho  idle  many  a  day ; 
The  wheels  in  brain  refuse  to  turn 

If  they  should  stop  a  day. 

Of  finer  make  they  are  by  far 

And  will  not  stand  the  rust, 
For  they  would  run  ten  thousand  years 

If  flesh  was  not  of  dust. 


43 


UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN  IN  THE  FIFTIES. 

In  every  field  and  wood 

Where  a  log  cabin  stood; 
On  each  hill,  in  each  dell 

Wherever  families  dwell; 
By  the  fire,  near  the  bed 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  is  read. 

O'er  the  bright  fire  that  glows 

A  wave  for  freedom  rose ; 
It  kindles  in  each  breast 

'Twill  not  quench,  'twill  not  rest; 
A  fire !  a  storm !  it  breaks 

From  Dixie  to  the  Lakes. 

A  nation  hears  the  roar, 

From  lakes  to  ocean's  shore; 

The  cannon's  deadly  tone 
Echoes  the  bondman's  moan; 

Baptized  with  blood  and  tears 
Washed  are  the  stains  of  years. 

Fair  land  riven  in  twain 

Is  cemented  again ; 
Brothers  in  blue  and  gray 

Meet  where  their  comrades  lay; 
No  North,  South,  East  or  West 

'Neath  one  flag  we  all  love  best. 
44 


WHAT  IS  LANGUAGE? 

What  is  language?   Ask  the  breeze. 
"I  whisper  to  the  listening  leaves, 
I  wake  the  early  morning  dew 
Just  as  the  sun  peeps  into  view." 

What  is  language?    Ask  the  rain. 
"I  patter  on  the  window  pane, 
As  hail  I  clatter  on  the  roof 
With  many  a  cold  and  frozen  hoof." 

What  is  language  ?    Ask  the  rill. 
"I've  talked  for  ages  to  the  hills 
I  steal  away  so  very  still 
To  wake  things  up  at  old  grist  mill." 

What  is  language?    Ask  the  storm. 
"Men  know  me  by  my  angry  form, 
My  voice  is  loud  they  all  must  hear. 
They  may  not  listen,  I  sometimes  fear." 

What  is  language  ?    Ask  the  rock, 
That  long  the  billows  tried  to  rock. 
"I've  heard  the  ocean's  loudest  roar 
I  ever  stand  to  guard  the  shore." 

What  is  language?    Ask  the  deep. 
"I  have  some  secrets  I  would  keep 
To  thoughtful  man  I'll  deign  to  speak 
If  he  will  listen  silent,  meek." 
45 


What  is  language  thou  lone  peak? 
"Let  roaring  winds  around  me  speak. 
My  comrades  all  are  now  laid  low 
Time  still  I  fight,  my  ancient  foe." 

Oh  stars  that  deck  the  nightly  dome, 
Tell  us  about  our  far  off  home. 
How  oft  we  listen  to  your  voice 
And  in  our  inmost  soul  rejoice. 


46 


THE  MEADOW  LONG  AGO. 

'Twas  in  a  meadow  long  ago 

My  baby  girl  was  there, 
I  whet  my  scythe  where  lilies  grow 

And  cut  my  swath  so  fair. 

She  gathered  flowers  among  the  grass, 

And  laid  them  in  her  arms, 
Lest  sharpened  scythe  might  cut  them  down 

And  they  should  suffer  harm. 

The  roses  in  her  cheeks  more  fair, 

Than  all  the  flowers  of  June; 
But  reaper  came  with  sickle  sharp 

And  mowed  my  flower  too  soon. 

The  angel  came  who  knoweth  best 

And  took  my  flower  that  day ; 
He  laid  her  spirit  in  his  arms 

And  bore  her  far  away. 

That  heavenly  land  seems  dearer  now 

My  baby  girl  is  there; 
No  sickle  sharp  will  mow  my  flower 

Forever  grown  more  fair. 

The  song  birds  sang  in  bowers  that  day, 

She  played  by  ripling  stream ; 
She  crossed  to  shore  where  angels  sing 

And  fairer  flowers  are  seen. 

47 


SONG  OF  THE  OCEAN. 

How  loud  is  the  roar  of  the  ocean, 
How  old  is  the  moan  of  the  deep. 

Prone  where  thy  billows  break  near  me, 
Rock  me,  oh  ocean,  to  sleep. 

The  charm  of  thy  music  I'd  know 

Sung  to  the  ages  so  long, 
Rocking  thy  billows  old  ocean, 

Sing  me  to  sleep  with  thy  song. 

The  rocks  look  down  from  above  me, 
For  ages  have  guarded  the  deep, 

Echo  the  song  waves  are  singing 
Then  guard  and  rock  me  to  sleep. 

Never  grow  weary,  old  ocean 

Of  surging  and  roaming  the  deep? 

Of  care  and  toil  I'm  weary 
Rock  me  kind  ocean  to  sleep. 

Teach  me  the  song  thou  art  singing, 
Soothing  and  sweet  in  its  flow, 

Rock  me  to  sleep  on  your  bosom, 
I'll  sleep  and  dream  as  I  go. 

Sing  me  a  song  of  the  future, 

'Twill  gladden  my  heart  once  more, 

Wake  in  the  morning,  oh  ocean. 
Wake  me  again  with  thy  roar. 
48 


What  art  thou  singing,  dear  ocean? 

Time  has  no  claim  upon  thee, 
Fresh  in  the  morning,  dear  ocean, 

I'd  listen  and  roam  by  the  sea. 

Then  cease  thy  moaning,  oh  ocean, 

For  ages  so  long  ago, 
Add  to  thy  song  of  the  future, 

Twill  sweeten  thy  song  I  know. 


49 


GOD  IS  WITH  US. 

A  drop  of  water  in  the  air, 

A  little  minute  sphere, 
A  song  of  bird  on  wing  so  fair, 

Tis  God  I  see  and  hear. 

A  little  flower  with  downy  paint 

Looks  up  into  my  eye, 
And  says  to  me  in  voice  so  faint 

Behold,  our  God  is  nigh. 

He  piled  the  sand  upon  the  beach, 
He  reared  the  mountains  high, 

His  hand  the  distant  stars  doth  reach, 
I  feel  Him  ever  nigh. 

The  little  pebble  in  the  sand 

Has  felt  the  ocean's  roll: 
No  matter  where  I  sit  or  stand 

Tis  god  rolls  through  my  soul. 

I  look  upon  the  worlds  in  space, 
The  stars  smile  in  the  night ; 

In  them  I  see  His  own  bright  face, 
He  holds  me  with  His  might. 

I  backward  glance  o'er  ages  past, 

His  footsteps  there  I  see ; 
His  hand  shall  lead  me  to  the  last 

Wherever  I  may  be. 
50 


I  shall  not  rest  within  the  grave 

For  He  is  surely  mine; 
From  deepest  trouble  He  will  save, 
Tho  all  the  world  combine. 

I  trust  Him  fully  every  hour, 

Beneath  me  is  His  arm ; 
In  Him  is  all  sufficient  power 

To  keep  me  from  all  harm. 

His  peace  is  like  the  ocean  deep, 
Whose  bottom  is  not  stirred ; 

My  anchored  hopes  He'll  surely  keep, 
Since  He  my  voice  hath  heard. 


51 


THE  ENGRAFTER. 

A  man  with  knife  engrafts  a  tree 

With  choicest  kind  of  fruit, 
While  doctors  now  engraft  on  men, 

A  piece  of  flesh  to  suit. 
The  tree  will  bear  a  sweeter  fruit, 

But  man  is  always  game, 
May  graft  his  limbs  from  head  to  foot, 

Remains  his  nature  same. 

If  I  should  trade  my  limbs  for  Jim's 

And  make  an  even  change, 
The  feeling  in  new  limbs  of  mine 

Might  seem  a  little  strange ; 
But  I  would  soon  get  used  to  them, 

Then  love  them  just  the  same,    • 
And  should  I  stub  my  index  toe 

I'd  heap  on  ground  the  blame. 

And  should  I  slip  upon  a  rind 

And  strain  an  ankle  bone, 
I'd  wrap  it  up  to  ease  the  pain 

And  treat  it  as  my  own. 
If  I  should  swap  my  arms  for  Jim's 

And  get  a  little  boot 
I'd  grip  the  difference  in  my  palm 

'Till  every  coin  took  root. 

And  should  we  change  from  head  to  foot 
'Till  people  call  me  Jim, 

52 


I'd  love  new  flesh  because  'twas  mine, 

And  scarcely  think  of  him. 
But  did  we  think  of  others  more, 

And  sometimes  feel  their  pain 
Of  near  kin  we'd  be  to  man 

And  kindlier  feelings  gain. 

One  fist  will  not  the  other  fight, 

One  foot  the  other  trip ; 
Each  works  and  treads  in  harmony, 

Lest  hand  or  foot  may  slip : 
Were  men  but  broader  in  their  thoughts 

They'd  be  to  others  kind 
In  welfare  of  their  fellow  man 

They'd  lasting  pleasures  find. 

When  men  high  up  the  ladder  kick 

At  men  who  are  lower  down, 
They  all  may  make  the  ladder  tip 

And  fall  in  heap  to  ground. 
If  men  in  different  walks  of  life 

Shall  stop  to  fight  and  kill, 
The  dead  will  lie  and  block  the  road, 

And  none  will  climb  the  hill. 


53 


CALIFORNIA. 

California,  California, 

There's  music  in  thy  name; 
There's  music  in  the  billowy  waves 

That  break  from  out  the  main. 
The  mountains  guard  thee  on  the  east, 

O'er  which  the  sun  must  rise, 
The  ocean  meets  thee  on  the  west 

Beneath  the  boundless  skies. 

The  breezes  rocked  by  ocean  deep, 

And  caught  by  mountain  sides, 
Are  tempered  from  the  summer's  heat, 

In  winters,  warmed  by  tides. 
Thy  rocky  barriers  guard  from  storms, 

That  sweep  o'er  level  plains; 
They  hold  the  thunder  bolt  in  check, 

And  send  us  gentle  rains. 

The  orange  groves  raise  sweet  perfume, 

From  blossoms  white  as  snow. 
The  farmer  plows  in  winter  time, 

His  fields,  he  plants  and  sows. 
The  golden  fruit  all  times  of  year 

Hang  in  the  foliage  green, 
The  sun  shines  on  the  snowy  peaks, 

Whose  heads  are  plainly  seen. 

The  lofty  trees  on  mountain  sides; 
The  leaping  water  falls; 

54 


The  winding  streams  o'er  fertile  ground, 

To  distant  peoples  call. 
The  gentle  surfs  that  roll  to  shore, 

Long  lines  so  briny  white, 
Would  tempt  the  bather  on  the  sands 

To  swim  to  heart's  delight. 

When  drifting  snows  are  piling  high 

Upon  our  eastern  shores, 
Here  sun  is  shining  warm  and  clear; 

On  wings,  the  songster  soars. 
The  honey  bee  from  flower  to  flower, 

The  humming  bird  on  wing, 
Wakes  sweetest  music  in  the  air, 

Robs  winter  of  its  sting. 

California,  California, 

There's  magic  in  thy  name; 
Some  came  to  thee  through  Golden  Gate 

And  some  across  the  plain. 
'Twas  golden  sands  that  lured  us  then, 

But  sunshine  holds  us  now; 
We  would  not  leave  for  other  climes, 

This  is  our  latest  vow. 

Then  come  from  every  walk  of  life, 

New  lease  of  life  you'll  gain; 
Come  through  the  gate  of  Panama, 

Or  come  by  swiftest  train. 
Come  ships  from  east,  come  ships  from  west, 

And  meet  along  thy  shore, 
And  load  with  fruits  of  every  clime 

From  thy  abundant  store. 
55 


THE  MOCKING  BIRDS'  NEST. 

The  mocking  bird  all  night  we  heard, 

Among  the  arbors  near; 
A  song  of  joy  to  mate  so  coy, 

To  drive  away  her  fear. 

When  it  was  light  she  came  in  sight, 

With  cotton  in  her  bill 
Among  the  vines  to  deftly  twine 

A  downy  nest  to  fill. 

He  looked  amazed,  then  at  her  gazed, 
And  asked  her  what  she  meant, 

Then  nearer  came  when  learned  the  game, 
And  kind  assistance  lent. 

So  in  he  went,  more  twigs  he  bent, 

She  laid  the  cotton  in ; 
He  feathers  found  and  placed  around, 

She  said  how  good  you've  been. 

She  sat  in  nest  its  strength  to  test 

Her  head  above  the  rim; 
She  said  how  nice  it  will  suffice, 

And  glanced  around  at  him. 

She  came  each  day  an  egg  to  lay 

In  their  soft  downy  nest; 
Till  she  had  four,  she  needs  no  more, 

So  she  sat  down  to  rest. 
56 


From  morn  till  late  she  nothing  ate, 

So  he  drew  very  night ; 
He  said,  "My  dear,  for  you  I  fear, 

Let  me  your  duty  try." 

So  off  she  flew  for  well  she  knew 

He'd  fit  the  downy  nest. 
When  morning  light  dispelled  the  night 

She  found  he'd  done  his  best. 

No  night  or  day  he  sang  his  lay 

Another  duty  came; 
A  living  brood  now  called  for  food, 

To  feed  them  was  their  aim. 

So  forth  they  went  on  duty  bent 
And  brought  their  children  food; 

So  well  they  knew  as  duties  grew 
It  seemed  in  them  so  good. 

Above  my  head  their  babies  fed, 
Where  hangs  the  arbor  vine; 

The  nest  so  low  I  watched  them  grow, 
I  almost  felt  them  mine. 

The  days  drew  nigh  when  young  must  fly, 

Then  fear  on  parents  came; 
When  looking  'round,  saw  cat  on  ground, 

They'd  heard  of  pussy's  game. 

So  called  the  cat  to  hunt  a  rat, 

And  when  he  would  not  go, 
They  flew  at  him  with  all  their  vim, 

They  thought  he  was  too  slow. 
57 


The  babies'  wings,  important  things, 

Must  now  on  air  be  tried ; 
They  raised  them  high  as  if  to  fly 

While  parents  closely  eyed. 

As  courage  grew  the  parents  knew 
Their  young  would  fly  or  fall, 

Their  joy  was  tense  when  on  the  fence 
Their  birdies  came  at  call. 

They  flew  to  tree  with  greatest  glee, 
And  called  their  babies  thence ; 

So  birdies  flew  where  leaflets  grew, 
It  was  more  safe  than  fence. 

The  parents  looked  in  every  nook, 

To  see  where  each  had  gone, 
And  took  them  food  as  well  they  should, 

And  saved  them  every  one. 


58 


JONAH. 

Poor  Jonah  was  a  righteous  man 
But  still  he  gets  the  blame 

For  every  thing  that  goeth  wrong 
And  this  is  how  it  came. 

God  looked  upon  proud  Ninevah, 

Then  chose  a  piece  of  clay, 
And  bade  poor  Jonah  go  to  king 

And  eight  short  words  to  say. 

Now  Jonah's  heart  began  to  sink 
He  thought  what  king  would  say 

At  gate  of  grand  old  Nineveh, 
When  Jonah  came  that  way. 

So  Jonah  chose  another  road, 
He  sought  the  pathless  deep, 

But  Jonah  found  the  Lord  was  there 
With  eyes  that  never  sleep. 

He  caught  a  ship  about  to  sail, 
He  went  and  paid  his  fare, 

Then  sought  a  berth  in  lowest  hold 
And  hid  from  God  down  there. 

The  Lord  watched  Jonah  there  asleep, 
And  raised  a  mighty  storm, 

And  when  the  ship  was  out  from  land 
Each  cloud  chose  angry  form. 
59 


The  men  on  deck  began  to  cry 

Each  to  his  separate  God, 
But  still  the  ship  was  tossed  on  high 

And  chastened  by  His  rod. 

They  searched  o'er  ship  to  find  the  cause 

Of  heaven's  anger  raised, 
They  found  poor  Jonah  sound  asleep, 

At  him,  they  were  amazed. 

"Awake" !  they  cried,  "beseach  thy  God, 

His  wrath  to  turn  away, 
How  can  you  sleep  in  such  a  storm. 

Arise!  without  delay." 

No  prayer  against  that  storm  prevailed, 

So  sought  to  fix  the  blame, 
Each  cast  his  lot  into  a  pot 

And  Jonah  drew  the  name. 

So  Jonah  told  how  he  had  fled 

Away  from  Hebrew's  God, 
And  begged  them  cast  him  overboard, 

And  stay  God's  chastening  rod. 

They  rowed  for  shore,  but  storm  grew  worse, 

No  effort  would  avail, 
So  tossed  poor  Jonah  overboard, 

Now  God  had  sent  a  whale. 

When  Jonah  sank  beneath  the  wave, 

There  fell  on  sea  a  calm, 
So  people  all  sought  Jonah's  God 

Who  holds  the  sea  in  palm. 
60 


There's  not  a  beast  that  walks  alone, 

Or  fish  that  swims  unseen, 
God  sees  the  sparrow  when  it  falls, 

To  Him  there's  nothing  mean. 

When  Jonah  saw  escape  was  vain 

He  settled  down  to  prayer, 
If  God  would  steer  that  fish  to  land 

Migh  send  him  anywhere. 

The  fish  dove  down  in  deepest  caves, 

Till  Jonah's  face  grew  pale, 
Then  turned  and  left  him  on  the  shore, 

The  last  he  saw  of  whale. 

Here  Jonah  saw  the  warm  old  sun 
And  spread  his  clothes  to  dry, 

Unwrapped  the  sea  weeds  round  his  neck, 
And  breathed  a  last  deep  sigh. 

The  palace  walls  of  Nineveh 

Now  rose  to  Jonah's  sight, 
He  marched  straight  on  through  open  gate, 

Nor  looked  to  left  or  right. 

"Yet  forty  days  and  Nineveh 
Shall  be  o'erthrown,"  he  said, 

Three  days  he  marched  and  kept  it  up, 
Then  to  the  desert  fled. 

The  king  in  sack  cloth  left  his  throne, 

And  ashes  o'er  him  spread, 
The  people  all  forsook  the  streets, 

And  each  for  mercy  pled. 
61 


While  Jonah  lay  in  desert  place, 

And  waited  forty  days, 
To  see  if  God  would  city  spare, 

Or  if  they'd  mend  their  ways. 

When  Jonah  saw  the  city  saved, 
He  raised  a  storm  his  own, 

And  frowned  on  God  of  gracious  ways 
Because  of  mercy  shown. 

Now  God  to  Jonah  made  reply, 
"Why  grieve  that  I  should  spare 

My  six  score  thousand  little  ones 
Too  young  to  breathe  a  prayer." 

Now  God  had  grown  a  spreading  gourd 
To  shade  him  from  the  sun, 

Yet  Jonah's  anger  would  not  spare 
God's  helpless  little  ones. 

This  story  as  a  fable  told, 

By  simple  minds  thought  true, 

Has  moral  worth  in  many  parts 
A  lesson  has  for  you. 


62 


THE  RIDE  IN  THE  BAGGAGE  CAR. 

In  the  eighties  when  the  Burlington  run 
From  Denver  to  Chicago  via  Pacific  Junction 
Leaving  Omaha  twenty  miles  to  the  north 
Many  came  to  Denver  for  health  and  returned  in 
boxes. 

My  mind  oft  reverts  to  one  who  is  far 
And  the  ride  that  night  in  the  baggage  car 
To  the  wooden  box  that  stood  in  the  aisle 
And  the  face  that  rose  and  gave  me  a  smile. 

Had    Denver's  last    trunks    and    stacked    them 

up  high 

And  friends  were  kissing  and  saying  "goodbye." 
When  up  came  a  box  on  the  last  truck  load 
"Make  room  for  a  stiff,"  cried  the  Con.  of  the  road. 

They  give  it  a  shove  for  the  big  side  door 
We  pull  it  along  the  aisle  on  the  floor. 
Says  the  gray  haired  sire  with  dollar  in  hand, 
Be  kind  to  my  child  and  gentle,  dear  man. 

The  curtain  of  night  hung  o'er  the  wide  world 
As  out  of  the  depot  the  Burlington  whirled 
And  the  old  brass  checks  were  tingling  like  bells 
The  length  of  the  aisle  where  the  shadows  fell. 

Each  check  by  number  I  write  in  my  book 
The  one  on  the  box  the  last  one  I  took 
As  the  midnight  hour  already  had  passed 
With  the  box  for  a  bed  I  slumber  at  last. 

63 


Now  little  I  dreamed  that  the  one  in  the  box 
Well  knew  me  asleep  as  the  long  car  rocks. 
Loud  whistle  I  hear,  'tis  the  Otis  switch 
Where  we  meet  "No.  One"  or  go  in  the  ditch. 

I  greet  "No.  One"  as  they  pass  near  by, 
Then  glance  at  the  box  I  hardly  know  why 
A  lady  most  fair  now  rising  I  see 
Have  seen  her  before  she  beckons  to  me. 

With  light  in  my  hand  I  venture  more  near 
I  never  was  taught  a  spirit  to  fear 
To  see  the  bright  form  that  slept  in  the  box 
Surely  most  surely  I  know  her  brown  locks. 

The  form  disappeared  from  the  glare  of  the  light 
I  read  on  the  box  her  name  "Jessie  Wright" 
As  children  at  school  together  we'd  played 
'Twas  I  had  wandered  in  foreign  lands  strayed. 

When  parting  I  said  "I'll  meet  you  again" 
With  promise  in  mind  I  crossed  the  wide  main 
I  saw  the  big  world  then  dropped  out  of  sight 
The  fortune  I  chased  had  taken  to  flight. 

So  started  anew  on  a  lower  plane 
My  former  old  friends  have  sought  me  in  vain 
But  time  has  slipped  by  and  now  I'm  here 
"Oh  Jessie,  my  dear,  all's  blighted  by  years. 

I  go,  Dear  Jessie,  to  Iowa  line 
Never  again  will  Ohio  be  mine 
At  banks  of  Old  Muddy  will  bid  you  goodbye. 
To  Canaan  I'm  bound,  you're  checked  for  the  sky." 

64 


The  father  of  Jess,  whose  locks  were  so  gray 
Who  gave  me  the  coin  my  kindness  to  pay 
Came  back  to  the  door  next  morning  to  see 
The  great  wooden  box  in  the  aisle  with  me. 

He  did  not  know  me  so  changed  was  my  cast 
Why  should  I  tell  him,  best  bury  the  past. 
Transparent  to  child  was  all  my  disguise 
Who  saw  the  big  tears  that  came  to  my  eyes. 

"How  far  do  you  go?  (I  saw  the  old  smile) 
Then  tossed  me  a  dollar  which  fell  in  the  aisle 
"Give  it  to  next  one  in  charge  of  my  babe 
And  tell  him  be  kind,  this  little  I  crave." 

Soon  to  the  next  one  both  dollars  I  gave 
Softly  departed  one  glance  yet  I  craved 
While  watching  the  train  roll  swiftly  away. 
The  baggage  car  dimmed  see  Jessie  for  aye. 


RALLY  TO  THE  FLAG— WHO  ARE  ITS  FOES? 

Rally  to  the  flag,  who  are  its  foes? 

The  men  who  are  cowardly  and  mean. 
Wherever  the  flag  of  freedom  goes 

The  true  and  brave  should  be  seen. 

'Tis  not  the  flag  of  tyrant  or  slave 

The  emblem  of  ruler  or  creed 
'Tis  the  flag  of  those  whom  freedom  saved 

From  the  tyrant's  oppression  and  greed. 

Only  the  true  may  carry  our  flag, 
And  then  will  its  glory  be  bright. 

Never  will  the  flag  of  freedom  lag 
When  borne  in  the  cause  of  right. 

Never  it  faltered  at  Bunker  Hill 
In  the  dawn  of  freedom  unfurled ; 

Never  it  faltered,  never  stood  still, 

Each  foe  from  its  course  has  been  hurled. 

When  night  overtook  it  and  all  was  chill, 
Sunny  southward  it  took  its  flight, 

Borne  by  freemen  of  courage  and  will 
Ready  to  die  in  cause  of  right. 

It  did  not  falter  on  ocean  wave 

When  freemen  heard  a  brother's  cry 

Our  Dewey  arose  to  quickly  save 
With  speed  of  wing  and  eagle  eye. 
66 


Why  should  it  falter  at  Rio  Grande 

Where  crime  and  oppression  are  sown ; 
Hurp^mty  cries  for  a  helping  hand 
111   I    I    I    |ie  cry  of  the  bondsman's  moan. 

I    1       be  true  to  save  our  flag, 

Inner  no  better  than  we 
Bng  its  colors  trail  and  drag — 
I  mnS  ?  not  long !  can  we  be  free. 


A  PRAYER. 

I  come  to  Thee  as  best  I  know, 
I've  never  heard  Thy  voice, 

Save  in  my  inmost  soul  I've  heard 
Thou  bade  my  heart  rejoice. 

I  come  to  Thee  as  best  I  know, 

I've  never  seen  Thy  face; 
On  every  hand  I  see  Thy  works 

That  seem  Thy  smile  to  trace. 

I  come  to  Thee  as  best  I  know, 
I've  never  seen  Thy  home; 

Thy  curtains  hang  in  evening  sky, 
Thou  art  where  e'er  I  roam. 

I  come  to  Thee  as  best  I  know, 

I've  often  felt  Thy  love ; 
From  whence  I  came  I  knoweth  not, 

Thou  art  beneath,  above. 

I  come  to  Thee  as  best  I  know, 

My  weakness  oft  I  feel; 
But  Thou  art  strong,  I  shall  not  fall, 

Impart  new  strength,  new  zeal. 

I  come  to  Thee  as  best  I  know, 

My  eyes  are  blind  to  see ; 
But  Thou  wilt  shine  into  my  heart, 

Reveal  Thyself  to  me. 
68 


I  come  to  Thee  as  father,  friend, 

As  all  of  life  to  me ;     ' 
Where  could  I  find  another  friend 

Who  will  endure  like  Thee. 

'Tho  body  fails,  my  soul  survives, 

Immortal  part  is  Thine; 
I  cannot  die  while  Thou  doth  live, 

My  Father  ever  mine. 

I  come  to  Thee  as  best  I  know, 

The  sky  is  overcast; 
May  sorrow  bide  but  for  a  day, 

The  clouds  will  soon  have  passed. 

I  come  to  Thee  as  best  I  know, 

Help  me  to  understand, 
How  near  Thou  art  in  time  of  need, 

Lend  Thou  a  helping  hand. 

I  come  to  Thee  as  best  I  know, 
The  morn  and  flowers  all  new ; 

May  every  though  of  mine  be  clean 
And  pure  as  morning  dew. 

I  come  to  Thee  as  best  I  know 
The  air  and  sunshine  free ; 

Remove  all  narrow,  selfish  thoughts 
And  make  me  broad  like  Thee. 


69 


ALL  CONQUESTS  FAIL. 

The  word  went  out  o'er  all  the  earth, 

"All  men  must  bow  to  Rome." 
The  ages  laughed  with  cynic  mirth, 

As  bubble  burst  in  foam. 

Command  went  forth  to  conquer  world 
For  Christ  the  Prince  of  Peace ; 

And  nations  listened  to  His  heralds 
Who  promised  wars  should  cease. 

The  greatest  wars  our  world  has  known 
Have  made  their  words  a  joke. 

The  seed  of  peace  the  church  has  sown 
By  thorns  have  all  been  choked. 

When  science  took  a  hand  she  said 

That  she  would  conquer  all; 
When  men  were  learned,  and  wise,  and  read, 

Then  barriers  all  would  fall. 

She  built  up  barriers  unforseen, 

They  rise  to  modern  eyes ; 
From  hidden  depths  the  submarine 

Now  takes  most  ghastly  prize! 

The  demons  driven  from  the  world, 

The  pirates  from  the  sea, 
Come  back  with  fire  of  hell  to  hurl 

From  sky,  on  land  and  sea. 
70 


Christ  sought  to  conquer  with  His  love; 

Man's  heart  is  selfish  yet. 
If  He  looks  down  from  Heaven  above, 

It  is  with  deep  regret. 

The  air  above,  and  depths  beneath, 

Are  ready  now  to  fight; 
Shall  man  again  the  sword  unsheath 

And  say  that  might  is  right? 

'Twas  thought  that  reason  would  prevail 

To  settle  all  disputes ; 
For  force  is  blind,  leaves  bloody  trail, 

When  voice  of  reason's  mute. 

God  speaks  from  Heaven,  "Disarm!  Disarm! 

Let  love  and  friendship  reign." 
Another  voice  that  spreads  alarm 

Bursts  forth  from  out  the  Main. 


71 


THE  HOME  OF  OUT  OF  DOORS. 

You  may  boast  of  your  mansions  of  marble  and 

stone, 

With  gables  and  roof  and  high  towering  dome, 
But  my  home  out  of  doors  'neath  the  far  reaching 

sky, 

With  stars  in  the  evening  to  deck  it  on  high, 
Is  grander  by  far — give  me  the  out  door 
With  the  sky  for  a  roof  and  the  earth  for  a  floor. 

You  may  point  to  your  ceilings,  your  stairs,  and 

your  halls, 

The  paintings  of  masters  that  hang  on  the  walls, 
But  the  curtains  of  morning,  green  earth  'neath 

my  feet, 
By  the  ocean,  and  mountains  that  rise  from  the 

deep, 

Is  grander  by  far,  give  me  the  out  door 
With  the  sky  for  a  roof  and  the  earth  for  a  floor. 

You  may  go  to  your  churches  and  kneel  at  their 

shrines, 

Through  the  smoke  of  the  incense  view  the  divine, 
But  the  temple  of  Gid  rises  over  my  head, 
By  the  light  streaming  down,  toward  Heaven  I'm 

led; 

Oh,  the  temple  of  God  that  has  stood  evermore, 
Is  grander  by  far — oh  give  me  the  out  door. 

72 


PRAYER  OF  CONSECRATION. 

Cast  out  what  e'er  thou  seeth  wrong, 
And  make  me  Lord  like  Thee, 

And  then  Thou'lt  come  into  my  heart, 
And  there  abide  with  me. 

This  selfish  nature  take  away 
That  I  may  love  mankind; 

I  am  impoverished  in  myself, 
I  would  like  Thee  be  kind. 

What  are  the  riches  of  this  world, 
What  is  its  glittering  show? 

Unless  my  heart  is  full  of  love 
Thyself  I  can  not  know. 

Enlarge  my  heart  that  I  may  feel 

An  interest  in  each  man, 
And  then  how  sweet  'twill  be  for  me 

To  help  each  one  I  can. 

How  sordid  is  each  thing  I  have 

Unless  it  is  from  Thee; 
There  is  a  canker  in  each  joy 

That  flows  alone  to  me. 


RIDDLE  OF  THE  AGES. 

It  was  the  month  September 

When  Cairo  came  in  view 
With  all  her  towers  and  steeples 

The  sight  to  us  was  new. 
We'd  come  across  the  desert 

'Long  paths  the  camels  tramp, 
Had  seen  the  wild  Bedouins 

With  tents  and  herds  in  camp. 

We'd  seen  the  roving  Arabs 

With  natures  yet  unchanged, 
The  lion  and  the  leopard 

Refusing  to  be  tamed: 
But  now  arose  before  us 

The  pyramids  of  old, 
With  heads  above  the  ages 

Of  any  history  told. 

Ere  Joseph  ruled  in  Egypt 

These  pyramids  have  stood, 
Or  Abram  brought  his  Sarah 

Down  here  to  get  some  food ; 
Ere  Babylon  had  fallen, 

Or  Medo-Persia  rose, 
Or  Alexander  conquered, 

Darius  and  his  foes. 

On  summit  we  were  standing 
When  sun  o'er  valley  rose ; 

74 


These  dozen  Arabs  helped  us, 
And  now  before  us  pose; 

They  bow  their  heads  toward  Mecca 
A  thousand  miles  away, 

And  prostrate  on  this  summit 
In   unknown  tongues   they   pray. 

Good  subjects  of  Mohammed, 

They  have  their  hour  of  prayer, 
They  always  pray  at  sunrise 

No  matter  where  they  are. 
Now  rising  sun  o'er  valley, 

Lit  up  the  minarets 
Of  three  hundred  Mosques  in  Cairo 

'Neath  which  the  faithful  met. 

Since  Jesus  left  for  glory 

Rejected  by  the  Jew, 
Five  hundred  years  thereafter 

Mohammed  rose  to  view; 
Like  Christ  he  was  unlettered, 

His  parents  little  known, 
In  deserts  of  Arabia 

No  books  he  ever  owned. 

He  heard  some  ancient  legends 

Yet  floating  in  the  air, 
He  lived  alone  in  secret, 

And  spent  much  time  in  prayer, 
He  had  no  way  of  writing 

But  kept  God's  word  in  mind, 
He  told  these  words  to  others, 

None  seemed  to  take  it  kind. 
75 


Mid  persecutions  many 

He  preached  the  God  he  knew, 
He  never  grew  discouraged, 

He  kept  a  Heavenly  view. 
When  others  hearkened  to  him, 

He  chose  apostles  twelve, 
By  them  his  words  transmitted, 

Now  millions  in  them  delve. 

Tis  said  his  words  have  grandeur, — 

Have  gained  adherents  sure, 
And  lifted  up  the  masses 

From  idols  most  impure. 
These  people  long  in  darkness 

Caught  sight  of  heavenly  light, 
May  not  have  been  the  brightest 

To  them  it  seemed  the  right. 

Twelve  worshipers  before  us, 

Three  hundred  Mosques  in  view, 
Remind  us  of  dominion 

Now  vast  tho  somewhat  new. 
These  people  less  enlightened 

Than  Christian  nations  are, 
Already  are  as  numerous, 

And  spend  more  time  in  prayer. 

I  wish  to  lift  the  curtain 

Of  many  ages  far, 
And  show  the  night  and  morning, 
'    And  dawn  of  Bethlehem's  star; 
I  wish  to  show  deception 

In  far  off  Jacob's  seed, 
76 


And  point  to  conflicts  bloody 
That  turned  to  wars  of  creed. 

Now  Jacob  tricked  his  brother 

Of  his  own  sacred  right, 
Became  the  heir  of  promise, 

So  Esau  showeth  fight, 
Then  Jacob  fled  to  uncle 

And  went  to  herding  sheep, 
And  hid  away  from  brother 

His  birthright  thus  to  keep. 

When  Esau  came  to  father 

And  found  his  birthright  gone, 
He  pled  through  tears  of  sorrow 

"Give  me  some  blessing  one." 
Quoth  sire  "Thy  brother's  master, 

My  promise  can't  be  broke, 
When  thy  dominion  riseth 

Thy  sword  shall  break  his  yoke." 

He  also  sought  an  uncle, 

One  Sarah  had  disowned, 
A  daughter  of  Ishmael  married 

Whose  seed  as  exiles  roamed. 
Mohammed  rose  as  promised 

And  broke  his  brother's  yoke, 
For  his  dominion  cometh 

Of  which  his  father  spoke. 

In  early  years  the  promise 

To  Jacob  was  fulfilled, 
The  Bethlehem  Babe  in  manger 

77 


Earth's  warring  nations  stilled, 
His  kingdom  rose  like  magic 

Foretold  to  fill  the  earth, 
But  rival  kingdom  riseth, 

Through  Esau  had  its  birth. 

Slain  by  the  Jewish  people 

Christ  rose,  as  king  in  light, 
The  followers  of  Mohammed 

His  kingdom  claimed  by  might. 
The  child  with  birthplace  Mecca 

Holds  sway  in  Bethlehem, 
By  many  wars  obtained  it, 

Still  held  by  Esau's  men. 

The  natural  seed  of  Jacob 

Wide  scattered  long  has  been, 
His  birthright  taken  from  him 

Restored  to  Esau's  men. 
And  Esau  freed  from  bondage, 

Who  was  the  rightful  heir, 
Comes  forth  with  sword  to  conquer, 

And  claim  dominion  fair. 

The  natural  seed  of  Jacob 

Down  trodden  o'er  the  earth ; 
The  seed  through  faith  are  warring, 

Have  lost  their  heavenly  birth ; 
While  Prince  of  Peace  ascended 

Looks  down  on  warring  race, 
His  ensign  peace  all  shattered, 

Scarce  fragment  left  in  place. 
78 


Now  since  the  days  of  Abram 

This  pyramid  has  stood, 
A  witness  of  these  rivals 

So  little  understood 
We  Gentiles  once  engrafted 

By  faith,  on  Esau's  foe 
Now  watch  these  sons  of  Esau 

To  Allah  bending  low. 

Both  Christians  and  Mohammeds 

Their  father  Abram  own, 
But  will  not  mix  or  mingle 

Because  of  hatred  sown. 
Both  have  one  God  and  father, 

One  looks  to  Jacob's  seed, 
The  other  to  Mohammed 

To  teach  them  and  to  leatf. 

Most  reverent  are  Mohammeds 

To  God  they  bow  their  heads, 
Their  sandals  each  removing 

With  silent  steps  they  tread; 
On  floor,  in  seated  posture 

Long  hours  they  sit  and  read 
Their  sacred  book,  the  Koran, 

Upon  its  truths  they  feed. 

They  read  of  one  called  Allah, 
We  speak  of  him  as  God ; 

There  are  no  walls  between  us 
When  we  rest  neath  the  sod. 
79 


But  here  we  stand  on  summit 

Of  pyramid  of  old, 
And  look  around  about  us, 

See  names  in  letters  bold; 
Carved  deep  in  rocks  around  us 

Are  names  we'd  often  heard, 
The  name  Mark  Twain  is  graven 

Home  memories  now  are  stirred, 

The  Arabs  now  are  waiting 

To  carry  us  away, 
To  catacombs  and  caverns 

Where  ancient  Egypt  lay. 
So  down  these  steps  we  hasten 

Where  once  were  busy  hands, 
Each  rock  in  place  were  putting, 

We'll  see  them  neath  the  sand. 


80 


VESUVIUS. 

This  poem  Vesuvius  is  written  describing  what  the  au 
thor  saw  on  his  visit  to  Naples  and  Vesuvius  years  ago.  It 
was  a  Sunday  morning.  We  first  went  to  the  cathedral.  The 
bishop  in  his  costly  robes  with  his  attendants  were  going 
through  the  ceremony  of  restoring  the  solidified  blood  of 
Saint  Jannarius  into  warm  life  blood.  This  is  done  by  bring 
ing  the  bottles  containing  the  solidified  blood  near  the  head 
of  this  martyr,  which  they  have  in  a  casket.  This  ceremony 
is  performed  three  times  a  year,  and  the  ceremonies  occupy 
eight  days.  The  first  day  of  the  ceremony  it  requires  a  long 
time  for  this  blood  to  become  fresh,  but  each  day  is  easier 
and  requires  less  time.  While  this  miracle  is  being  wrought 
they  don't  neglect  the  collections. 

We'd  sailed  the  broad  Pacific 
And  seen  fair  Ceylons  Isle, 

Climbed  the  pyramids  of  old 
And  gazed  far  up  the  Nile ; 

We'd  seen  so  much  of  ancient 
Were  hunting  something  new, 

We  sailed  the  Mediterranean 
'Till  'Suvius  came  in  view. 


It  was  the  early  morning 

When  stars  had  dimmed  to  few, 

But  lights  were  still  all  shining 
When  Naples  came  in  view, 

And  shore  lines  of  the  city 

Reflected  in  the  bay, 
And  fire  of  old  Vesuvius 

Shone  brightly  o'er  the  way. 
81 


There  is  no  bay  more  charming 
In  this  old  world  of  ours, 

With  'Suvius  in  the  distance 
Behind  the  temple  towers. 

It  was  a  Sunday  morning 

Our  feet  had  touched  the  shore, 
We  followed  with  the  masses 

Who  sought  the  temple  doors. 

The  image  of  Confucius 
We'd  seen  in  China  towns, 

But  here  were  saints  in  marble 
Of  quite  as  much  renown. 

A  priest  held  out  a  bottle 
With  blood  of  martyr  slain 

The  people  pressed  to  kiss  it 
With  all  their  might  and  main. 

This  saint  who  was  beheaded 
Some  thousand  years  ago, 

Now  soul  with  wings  in  glory, 
His  blood  they  freely  show, 

His  head  they  have  in  casket, 
And  now  the  finance  low 

They  show  the  cask  and  bottle 
To  make  the  money  flow. 

We  left  the  priests  in  temple, 
Passed  beggars  on  the  street, 

We  hurried  off  to  shelter, 
More  beggars  still  we  meet ; 
82 


We  toss  a  coin  among  them, 

A  dozen  jump  for  same, 
We  stop  to  toss  another, 

A  score  more  beggars  came. 

Some  girls  with  flowers  now  meet  us, 

Adorn  our  coat  lapel, 
Then  freely  beg  us  buy  them, 

They  pinned  them  there  to  sell. 

Every  one  would  bleed  us, 
The  fleas  were  nipping,  too, 

We  shook  the  dust  from  off  us, 
Then  sped  away  from  view. 

Now  early  Monday  morning 

We  hasten  off  for  cone 
Of  world  renowned  Vesuvius 

In  thousand  pictures  shown. 

We  each  keep  seat  in  carriage 

As  far  as  safe  to  ride, 
Then  single  file  on  horseback 

Each  follow  after  guide. 

We  meet  hot  streams  of  lava, 
We  let  them  have  the  road, 

They  keep  right  on  through  orchards 
And  over  fences  flowed ; 

When  way  grows  steep  for  horses 

We  march  along  afoot 
And  step  in  coolest  places 

Make  haste  lest  feet  should  cook. 
83 


Each  grasped  a  pole  to  help  him 
Ascend  the  steepest  climb 

For  should  one  drop  in  chasm, 
He'd  reach  another  clime. 

We  passed  above  the  lava, 
Ascend  the  last  steep  rim, 

And  when  we  sit  on  summit 
We  each  are  tired  of  limb. 

We  glance  across  the  chasm, 
Then  down  three  hundred  feet, 

Where  lava  boils  and  bubbles 
And  seeks  some  crevice  leak; 

But  when  the  demons  'neath  us 
Stir  up  the  fires  too  hot, 

This  cauldron  boils  all  over, 
No  lid  upon  the  pot. 

As  here  we  sit  in  triumph 
Four  thousand  feet  in  air, 

We  think  of  all  the  thousands 
Beneath  us  buried  there. 

Below  us  once  were  cities 
Two  thousand  years  ago, 

Adorned  in  Roman  beauty, 
Now  neath  the  lavas  flow. 

We  hasten  back  to  Naples 

To  take  an  early  start 
To  view  these  proud  old  cities, 

The  home  of  ancient  art; 
84 


No  chisel  of  the  present 

Can  carve  like  them  in  stone, 

So  close  and  true  to  Nature 
As  in  their  statues  shown. 

Choice  works  of  art  and  beauty 
Deep  hid  beneath  the  ground, 

These  cities  long  forgotten 
By  accident  were  found ; 

A  peasant  in  a  vineyard 

Was  digging  for  a  well, 
He  struck  a  palace  costly 

Where  silent  inmates  dwell. 

So  early  Tuesday  morning 
We  pass  from  light  of  day 

Into  a  buried  city 

That  once  was  blithe  and  gay. 

First  we  visit  theater, 

But  actors  where  are  they  ? 

These  empty  seats,  three  thousand, 
There's  no  one  hears  the  play. 

We  listen  for  their  footsteps 
And  rustle  of  their  gowns, 

Their  homes  are  all  about  us, 
Why  don't  they  come  around? 

In  fancy  see  their  faces, 
Their  forms  upon  the  floor, 

Since  Peter  left  for  glory 
Their  steps  come  here  no  more. 
85 


The  homes  of  all  these  people 
Adorned  with  treasures  rare, 

Now  robbed  of  all  their  relics, 
Are  desolate  and  bare; 

Long  galleries  in  Naples 
Display  their  works  of  art, 

And  many  other  cities 
Have  now  obtained  a  part. 

We  hear  the  roar  of  travel 
On  streets  above  our  heads, 

A  hundred  feet  above  us 
The  modern  living  tread ; 

Goodby  old  Herculeaneum, 
Must  leave  you  here  to  stay, 

Through  gate  of  sister  city 
We  enter  old  Pompeii. 

Here  streets  once  under  ashes 
And  houses  buried  deep, 

Have  now  been  cleared  of  rubbish, 
In  all  their  homes  we  peep; 

Above  their  doors  kind  "welcome*" 
Remains  to  meet  our  eye, 

Tho  inmates  long  departed 
Their  footsteps  seemeth  nigh. 

A  dining  room  we  enter 
Their  bread  is  on  the  plate, 

But  inmates  all  had  hastened, 
This  meal  they  never  ate; 
86 


But  floors  in  bright  mosaic 

And  pictures  on  the  wall 
In  colors  rare  and  fadeless 

Remain  to  welcome  all. 

An  open  court  we  enter, 

In  center  is  a  well, 
The  curbing  stone  is  furrowed, 

Long  years  of  drawing  tell; 

We  look  for  door  to  open, 
Fair  maiden  come  to  well, 

The  doors  of  rooms  all  face  us 
But  no  one  in  them  dwell. 

We  follow  guide  in  cellar 

Which  round  the  court  extends, 
Here  inmates  had  sought  shelter, 

And  here  their  journey  ends; 

Their  leaning  forms  left  shadows 

Still  seen  on  cellar  walls, 
The  form  of  child  by  mother 

Was  only  half  so  tall. 

The  name  of  ring  on  finger 
Revealed  the  mother's  name, 

The  one  who  stood  beside  her 

Had  sealed  their  vows  with  same; 

The  maid  who  drew  the  water 
Had  left  her  shadow,  too, 

Here  all  had  stood  for  ages 
Neath  ashes  hid  from  view. 
87 


Along  the  streets  of  city 
We  pass  from  home  to  home, 

And  look  into  the  dwellings 
Of  people  from  old  Rome 

Who  came  to  pass  the  summer 
And  bathe  along  the  beach, 

'Till  waves  of  old  Vesuvius 
Their  habitations  reached. 

We  lightly  tread  the  paving 

Where  walked  the  lords  of  Rome, 

We  saw  where  deep  in  pavements 
Their  footsteps  long  had  worn; 

Deep  gutters  in  the  paving 
Showed  where  the  wagons  run, 

Repairing  badly  needed, 
Put  off,  was  never  done. 

As  last  respects  to  city 

We  visit  old  graveyard, 
We  read  the  dates  of  burial, 

None  since  the  gates  were  barred ; 

The  roar  of  old  Vesuvius 

Ne'er  waked  these  sleepers,  dead, 
Returning  steps  of  loved  ones 

Ne'er  tread  above  their  heads. 

Apostle  Paul  was  sailing 

A  prisoner  in  this  bay, 
They  led  him  from  Vesuvius 

Along  the  Apian  way ; 
88 


In  Roman  cell  they  leave  him, 
From  there  he  speaks  today, 

And  angry  old  Vesusivus 
Had  something  then  to  say. 

We  leave  through  gate  of  city 
Where  tourists  come  and  go, 

'Neath  frowning  old  Vesuvius 
Which  often  belches  so; 

But  men  forget  her  warning 
And  build  their  homes  near  by, 

The  land  about  is  fertile, 
And  here  they  live — and  die. 


THE  SNAIL  AND  THE  BIRD. 

One  back  takes  on  a  coat  of  shell 

And  covers  it  with  care, 
The  back  of  bird  takes  pair  of  wings 

To  carry  it  in  air. 

The  shell  of  snail  no  feeling  has 
Yet  guards  a  tender  life, 

The  quills  of  bird  are  filled  with  air 
And  meets  the  air  in  strife. 
89 


A  MIRROR  OF  AGES. 

Backward,  way  backward  long  ages  I  stroll 

In  the  Sacred  Old  City  I  stand. 
The  "wolf  in  sheep's  clothing"  has  taken  his  toll, 

Killed  the  "good  shepherd"  and  scattered  his 
band. 

To  the  temple  so  bright  in  the  light  of  the  sun, 
The  priests  and  the  throngs  are  wending  their 

way; 

On  the  barren  hillside  by  mortals  now  shun, 
Three  crosses  still    stand    this  high    Sabbath 
Day. 

The  soldiers  in  Rome  are  parading  the  street, 
Trampling  in  dust  God's  heavenly  dower, 

'Tis  Peter  now  cringing  they  sneeringly  greet, 
Denying  his  Lord  in  this  crucial  hour. 

But  Rome  in  her  glory  has  crumbled  away, 
The  Christ  in  the  tomb  has  risen  to  power, 

The  robes  of  the  "wolf"  form  Peter's  array, 

The  crosses  in  Rome  reared  high  on  her  towers. 

St.  Peter  in  marble  here  'neath  the  great  dome 
To  the  saints  of  all  lands  presents  his  great  toe, 

So  faithful  they  kiss  when  they  see  him  in  Rome 
Their  kisses  have  worn  it  'till  he's  little  to  show. 


90 


MUMMY  HEAD. 

Pyramids  we  had  climed, 

Catacombs  next  we  find 
Walking  in  'neath  the  sand 
'Mid  the  dead  live  we  stand. 

Startled  bats  see  our  light, 

Leave  their  haunts  in  their  flight. 

Mummy  hunt  brought  us  here, 

Mummies  gone  seems  so  queer, 
Ground  to  dust  so  they  say, 
Sown  on  fields  far  away. 

Growing  sugar  in  the  beet 

Every  day  mummy  eat. 

Mummy  togs  left  behind, 
And  old  coins  now  we  find, 
Mummy  dust  now  we  tread, 
'Neath  some  rags  find  a  head. 
Searching  more  find  a  hand 
Rescue  these  from  the  sand. 

Mummy  dust  now  we  eat, 
See  it  rise  from  our  feet. 
Mummy  dust  in  our  eye, 
How  this  dust  makes  us  cry. 
Mummy  dust  now  we  breathe, 
Mummy  dust  now  we  sneeze, 
Have  a  palm  in  my  hand, 
On  some  soul  now  I  stand. 
91 


Mummy  dust  in  our  ear, 
Wailing  dead  seem  to  hear. 

"Out  this  way"  some  one  cried, 
Followed  out,  'twas  our  guide, 
From  the  rocks  'neath  the  sand, 
Marched  straight  out  on  the  land. 

Donkeys  mount  off  we  hike 

O'er  the  flat  on  a  dike, 

Groves  of  palms,  cotton  fields, 
Fruits  and  dates  now  they  yield. 

Cotton  bowls  white  as  snow 

Burst  their  shells  as  we  go. 

Packed  each  prize  in  our  grip, 
Home  we  start,  end  our  trip, 
Pushed  by  steam  o'er  the  main, 
Native  land  sight  again, 
Touched  our  feet  on  the  land 
Home  again  from  the  sand. 

Mummy  hand  first  we  show, 
Cotton  next  white  as  snow, 

Then  the  coins  and  the  skull. 

Coins  were  old,  head  looked  dull, 
Trophies  ranged  on  a  shelf, 
Time  and  dust  dimmed  our  pelf. 

On  the  shelf  crept  a  mouse, 

In  the  skull  built  a  house. 
Went  to  work  raised  a  brood, 
Kept  it  up  mousy  mood. 
92 


Cotton  soft  from  the  Nile, 
Babies  bed  all  the  while. 

With  a  cane  walking  in 
Smashed  the  face  and  the  chin. 

Into  dust  beat  the  skull 

Mixing  mice,  cotton,  hull, 
Products  grown  by  the  Nile 
Swept  by  brush  in  a  pile. 

Dumped  in  yard  round  the  flowers, 
Washed  in  earth  by  the  showers, 

Seen  again  in  the  dews, 

Blooming  flowers  brightened  hues, 
From  his  grave  he  is  raised, 
Sun  o're  earth  should  be  praised. 

Borne  by  kin  'neath  the  sand, 
Eyelids  closed  by  some  hand, 

Waiting  for  Heaven's  morn, 

This  is  how  he  is  born; 
This  is  how  he  is  raised, 
Egypt's  sun  came  his  ways. 


93 


THE  KING  OF  JEWS. 

They  spread  their  garments  in  the  way, 
And  hailed  Him  as  their  king ; 

Deliverer  from  the  Roman  yoke 
Hosannas  loud  they  sing. 

"The  promised  king  so  long  foretold 

To  Abraham  and  his  seed, 
Whose  sway  should  be  o'er  all  che  earth 

Be  thou  our  king  we  plead." 

Enraged,  the  priests  arraigned  the  Christ 

Before  the  bar  of  Rome, 
So  Pilot  asked  "Art  thou  a  king?" 

Christ  said  "I  have  my  throne," 

And  Pilot  wrote  above  His  head 
"This  is  the  king  of  Jews," 

And  Jew  to  Pilot  said  same  day 
"We  have  no  king  but  you." 

And  thief  beside  Him  on  the  cross 

A  place  in  kingdom  asked ; 
Received  the  promise  it  should  be 

Before  the  day  had  past. 


94 


THE  LAKE  OF  GENESARET. 

I  have  no  harp  but  I  will  sing 

The  notes  that  come  to  me, 
I  have  no  gems  but  I  will  string 

My  pearls  from  sky  and  sea. 

My  pen  is  blunt  to  point  a  thought, 
No  brush  to  lend  me  charms, 

I  gaze  on  bosom  of  the  lake 
Neath  folded  snow  white  arms. 

I  long  to  rest  upon  the  wave 
And  kiss  each  rippling  smile, 

Whose  bosom  has  ten  thousand  charms 
That  doth  my  soul  beguile. 

The  liquid  air  sleeps  on  her  form 

And  not  a  ruffle  lends, 
The  smiling  sun  throws  back  a  kiss 

That  with  her  blushes  blends. 

The  bright  eyed  stars  peek  all  the  night 
Tho  moon  hangs  silvery  screens 

Till  morn  appears  with  robes  of  light 
And  wakes  her  from  her  dreams. 

The  lights  that  deck  her  liquid  form 

Were  woven  far  away 
They  borrow  colors  dyed  by  sun 

These  garments  light  as  spray. 
95 


These  robes  tho  trailed  from  out  the  sky 

No  storm  can  lift  a  fold, 
In  sheen  they  drape  both  hill  and  lake 

These  garments  never  old. 

Twas  by  this  lake  that  Jesus  walked, 
Of  sky  His  thoughts  were  filled, 

He  grasped  the  pleading  arms  of  Lake 
Her  troubled  spirit  stilled. 

Since  Jesus  walked  her  peaceful  shore, 
Days,  months,  and  years  have  sped, 

She  sleeps  and  wakes  as  days  of  yore 
Still  listens  for  His  tread. 


TO  THE  UNKNOWN  HERO. 

Every  deed  of  great  renown, 
And  every  conquest  bold, 

In  song  has  found  a  tongue, 
In  verse  and  rhyme  been  told, 

While  many  as  brave  a  deed, 
And  many  a  kindlier  act, 

In  the  ear  of  fame  unsung 
Is  buried  with  the  fact. 


96 


JACOB. 

Young  Jacob  was  as  shrewd  a  man 

As  ever  struck  a  trade; 
Se  swapped  poor  Esau  out  of  rights 

That  were  in  Heaven  made. 

As  elder  son  young  Esau  stood 

In  line  as  promised  heir; 
Of  Abram's  seed  because  of  faith, 

This  Jacob  got  unfair. 

He  bought  it  with  some  flavored  broth 

When  Esau  felt  its  need; 
He  had  his  eye  on  richer  feast 

Long  promised  Abram's  seed. 

Now  Isaac's  end  was  drawing  near. 

His  eyes  had  failed  of  sight; 
So  Jacob  feigned  he  was  Esau, 

We  find  it  worked  all  right. 

When  Esau  came  to  get  his  share 
Which  Heaven  had  in  store, 

The  aged  Isaac  wept  with  grief 
For  Jacob  left  through  door. 

Deceptive  lips  had  father  kissed, 
False  hands  had  brought  him  broth, 

Satanic  lies  had  blessing  won, 
And  all  at  Esau's  cost. 
97 


Though  Isaac  learned  how  trick  was  wrought, 

Though  anguish  was  extreme, 
The  words  must  stand  to  Jacob  spoke, 

For  fate  was  back  of  scene. 

For  mother  knew  of  Esau's  fate, 

Before  the  twins  saw  light, 
Revealed  to  her  by  Lord  on  high, 

She  tripped  up  Isaac  right. 

Her  hands  on  Jacob  placed  the  coat, 

That  felt  like  Esau's  hair; 
Rebecca  pushed  him  on  in  game, 

Made  Jacob  elder  heir. 

So  Esau  must  to  Jacob  bow, 

His  seed  his  servants  be, 
Because  poor  Isaac's  eyes  were  blind 

Too  blind  to  Jacob  see. 

Thus  fate  of  nation,  down  each  age, 
Was  changed  by  this  false  deed; 

And  Heaven  above,  unerring  power 
Long  helped  this  Jewish  seed. 

Now  Esau  vowed  he'd  slay  the  heir, 

So  Jacob  fled  in  fear; 
First  night  he  saw  a  ladder  high, 

From  top  God  spoke  most  clear. 

He  made  a  promise  to  the  Lord 

It  was  in  shape  of  trade; 
One-tenth  he'd  give  to  God  most  High 

Of  all  to  him  He  gave. 

98 


He  came  to  Labon  for  a  wife, 
His  uncle  matched  his  trick; 

Gave  Leah  him  for  Rachael  dear, 
And  made  deception  stick. 

But  Jacob  got  a  good  long  start, 
While  herding  Labon's  sheep; 

He  peeled  the  poles  in  bars  and  stripes 
Ringed  speckled  lambs  he  keeps. 

The  Lord  helped  Jacob  in  this  game 

So  Jacob  freely  claimed, 
It  worked  all  right,  at  least  we  learn 

By  all  the  sheep  he  gained. 

A  Jew,  a  Jew,  wherever  found, 

He's  always  at  his  trade; 
To  make  a  bargain  good  for  Jew 

His  living  thus  is  made. 

The  lips  that  kissed  his  father's  cheek, 
Were  black  with  falsehood  stained; 

The  blessing  of  his  father  sought 
As  story  runs  he  gained. 

The  blessing  long  as  time  endures, 

And  wide  as  nations  dwell, 
Like  manna  from  the  lips  of  sire, 

On  this  deceiver  fell. 

Those  blessings  promised  worldly  power, 

For  heir  an  endless  reign; 
The  kingly  reign  as  promised  Jew 

Has  turned  to  Gentile's  gain. 
99 


The  rightful  heir  by  Jew  was  slain, 
The  Gentile  sought  his  reign; 

So  Jew  was  left  without  a  king, 
Their  king  the  Gentiles  claim. 

So  blessings  all  have  been  reversed, 

And  into  curses  turned; 
Wherever  Jew  on  earth  is  found, 

Is  for  deception  spurned. 

He  traded  for  a  birthright  fair, 
This  by  deception  gained; 

The  Gentile  now  by  blood  the  heir 
Because  the  Jew  is  stained. 

The  nations'  gates  he  should  possess, 
Oft  closed  against  the  race ; 

He  wanders  up  and  down  the  earth, 
No  settled  biding  place. 


AN  INNER  LIGHT. 

The  sun  that  shines  all  day  in  sky 

Is  not  the  only  light, 
When  all  is  dark  I  close  my  eyes 

And  see  a  world  more  bright. 


100 


A  CHILDLESS  HOME. 

I  ne'er  had  gathered  flowers  that  day 
And  roamed  where  Pa  was  making  hay, 

Had  Father  been  a  city  dude, 

Alluring  paths  of  sin  pursued. 

Had  Mother  wore  her  silks  and  furls 
And  sought  the  dance  with  charming  whirl, 
I  ne'er  had  sat  on  Mother's  knee 
And  heard  the  song  she  hummed  to  me, 

Had  parents  loved  sweet  pleasure  more, 

And  lightly  prized  rich  Heaven's  store, 

I  ne'er  had  seen  my  parent's  face, 

Nor  felt  a  Mother's  warm  embrace. 

I  ne'er  had  known  a  Mother's  love, 

Or  heard  her  plea  to  God  above, 

Her  warm  deep  breast  a  frozen  lake, 
In  her  fond  arms  no  baby  waked. 

I  ne'er  had  known  a  Father's  care, 
Or  in  life's  blessings  found  a  share, 
My  parents'  home  no  home  for  me 
If  death  had  been  their  dark  decree. 

In  such  a  home 

No  coming  father  meets  his  child, 
No  tottering  babe  looks  up  and  smiles ; 
No  mother  meets  him  at  the  door, 
A  selfish  woman,  nothing  more. 
101 


No  babe  to  dandle  on  his  knee, 
With  childish  ways  and  happy  glee. 
He  listens  to  his  wife's  complaint 
While  on  her  face  he  views  the  paint. 

'Tho  home  is  warm  his  soul  is  chill 
'Tho  cushions  soft  they  fit  him  ill, 
'Tho  music  sweet  has  empty  sound, 
Tho'  viands  rich  no  relish  found. 

They  pleasure  plan,  would  go  to  ball 
Says  wife,  "I  have  no  dress  at  all." 
They  freeze  each  other  with  their  looks, 
Then  talk  divorce  and  balance  books. 

Each  charge  the  other  lack  of  love, 
The  hand  they  gave  an  empty  glove. 
The  charms  of  each  are  ashes  now, 
The  smile  has  left  a  scowl  on  brow. 

Sorrow  and  grief  is  all  they  reap, 
From  pleasure's  seed  the  chaff  they  keep. 
Their  souls  are  stained,  they  pay  in  pain, 
The  bitter  cup  they  now  must  drain. 

The  end  of  life  they  meet  with  fears, 
And  oft  regrets  with  bitter  tears, 
No  children  bid  them  last  goodbye, 
And  none  to  meet  them  in  the  sky. 


102 


THE  SIGHT  OF  GOD. 

Saw  you  the  light  on  yonder  peak, 
That  caught  the  morning  sun ; 

Saw  you  the  smile  on  human  cheek 
When  God  in  face  has  shone? 

Saw  you  the  rivers  run  from  hills 
When  rain  has  on  them  fell; 

Saw  you  the  tears  that  eyes  have  filled, 
When  lips  God's  raptures  tell? 

Saw  you  the  ice  in  rivers  melt 
When  summer's  sun  is  near; 

Know  you  the  joy  the  heart  has  felt 
When  love  has  cast  out  fear? 

Know  you  the  source  of  love  divine 
That  flows  in  human  heart; 

Has  not  that  stream  yet  flowed  to  thine 
Till  God  filled  every  part? 

Love  God  with  all  thy  heart  and  mind, 

And  neighbor  as  thyself; 
Command  becomes  thy  richest  find 

Including  God  himself? 

Without  Him  you  are  poor  indeed, 

Your  heart  is  barren  ice; 
In  which  is  sown  no  goodly  seed, 

Can  you  afford  the  price? 
103 


INSPIRATION. 

Not  what  I  learned  from  books, 
Not  what  the  teacher  said, 

Twas  what  I  learned  from  brooks 
And  from  the  leaves  o'er  head. 

Not  from  the  prophets  old 
Or  from  the  words  of  sage, 

No  mortal  to  me  told 

I  read  from  Nature's  page, 

I  read  it  in  the  sky, 

I  read  it  in  the  morn, 
I  knew  these  would  not  lie, 

Of  God  the  sky  is  born. 

I  listened  to  the  breeze 

And  to  the  song  of  birds, 

God  moved  among  the  trees 
And  every  leaf  that  stirred; 

God  spoke  to  me  in  light, 
He  spoke  to  me  in  cloud, 

He  spoke  to  me  at  night 

When  thunders  roared  so  loud. 


104 


GALILEE 

Every  place  Thy  feet  have  trod 
Every  sod  of  Galilee, 

Seems  sacred  ground  divinely  blest; 

All  nature  heard  Thy  sweet  behest. 

Every  village  where  Thou  passed 
Fame  will  last  tho  passed  from  sight; 
A  thousand  charms  we  ever  see 
Where'er  Thou  walked  in  Galilee. 

E'en  the  well  where  Thou  didst  rest, 
Ever  blest  where  all  may  drink ; 
Sacred  the  mountain  by  the  sea, 
Because  Thou  taught  on  Galilee. 

Desert  waste  sees  living  bread, 
Bread  of  life  Thy  fingers  break ; 

Mid  darkest  night  'cross  troubled  sea 
Thy  feet  approach,  on  Galilee. 

Every  field  grows  heavenly  grain, 
Richer  gain  than  earth  can  yield; 

Men  left  their  nets  to  follow  Thee 

Across  the  fields  of  Galilee. 

Bethlehem's  shades  have  lost  their  night, 
Bursts  a  light  from  Lazarus'  grave, 
When  Mary,  Martha,  Jesus  see, 
Who  haste  their  way  from  Galilee. 
105 


Weary  toiling  thru  the  night 
Morning  light  finds  Jesus  near ; 
On  wings  of  light  above  the  sea 
He  left  behind,  dear  Galilee. 


LINCOLN. 

Rejected  was  Saul  because  of  the  spoils 
Because  of  the  spoils  found  in  his  camps. 

So  is  the  man  when  in  office  he  soils, 

His  honor  he  soils,  with  the  money  of  scamps. 

"Look  not  on  the  stature  of  Jessie's  sons" 
God  told  Samuel  His  Prophet  of  old: 

All  were  rejected  but  the  toiling  one; 
David  was  called  from  tending  the  fold. 

And  so  it  is  oft'  the  one  men  despise 
Is  sought  of  God  in  time  of  great  need: 
106 


For  those  who  are  mean  in  haughty  men's  eyes 
In  eyes  of  God  may  be  cleanest  of  greed. 

When  God  wished  a  man  our  affairs  to  guide 
To  guide  this  nation  in  terrible  storm, 

He  passed  each  mansion  a  log  cabin  spied 
Chose  a  Lincoln  ungainly  of  form. 

It  takes  rugged  morals  to  do  God's  work, 
A  mind  and  a  vision  single  in  aim, 

One  in  whose  veins  no  deception  may  lurk. 
Such  was  the  man  God  called  to  reign. 

Have  we  a  Lincoln  courageous  and  brave 
To  stand  in  the  breach  dividing  our  land; 

Nothing  but  wisdom  and  firmness  will  save, 
Laws  will  not  save  in  a  weakling's  hand. 


ECHOES  OF  HIS  VOICE. 

Not  one  word  Christ  ever  spoke 
Was  written  down  while  here, 

His  words  are  echoes  of  His  voice, 
The  after  ages  hear. 


107 


GOOD  OLD  DAYS  ARE  GONE. 

Those  good  old  days  where  have  they  gone 

When  man  to  man  was  kind? 
They  all  have  flown  and  left  us  none 

Like  birds  to  sunny  clime. 
Once  neighbor  met  us  at  the  gate, 

And  put  our  team  in  barn, 
A  welcome  guest  we  dinner  ate, 

Then,  listened  to  some  yarn. 

And  when  we  left  'twas  hard  to  part, 

And  we  "must  come  again"; 
We're  sure  the  words  came  from  the  heart 

As  we  drew  up  the  rein. 
When  neighbor  passed  us  on  the  road, 

He  offered  us  a  ride; 
He  never  had  too  big  a  load 

Such  kindness  now  has  died. 

For  now  he  has  a  faster  speed 

As  hums  his  auto  wheels, 
Like  every  one  he  tries  to  lead 

No  old  time  kindness  feels; 
Too  big  a  hurry  now  to  stop, 

His  wheat  has  got  the  rust, 
He  fears  the  weeds  will  take  the  crop, 

He  leaves  us  in  the  dust. 


KNOW  NOT  ALL  THAT  JESUS  TAUGHT. 

We  know  not  all  that  Jesus  taught, 

For  naught  was  written  down, 
And  some  things  that  He  never  thought 

Filled  mouths  of  those  around; 
And  scheming  monks  and  zealous  priests 

Mixed  up  the  words  He  spoke, 
It  grew  like  leaven  in  the  yeast 

To  suit  the  taste  of  folks. 

From  lip  to  lip  and  mouth  to  mouth, 

These  words  came  down  the  age, 
His  thoughts  were  in  new  language  couched 

Till  fixed  on  written  page; 
Few  words  we  know  for  certain  sure 

What  Jesus  really  said. 
He  taught  some  truths  that  were  most  pure 

That  o'er  the  earth  has  spread. 

It  seems  He  did  not  talk  on  Mount 

'Bout  blood  to  wash  the  race, 
He  said  you  must  not  interest  count 

Let  kindness  have  a  place. 
Redeeming  blood  sounds  very  good 

To  those  who  cling  to  sin, 
It  is  their  balm  to  conscience  sooth 

When  truth  strikes  deep  within. 


109 


OUR  TEACHER  WHO  TAUGHT  CHRIST. 

'Twas  Christ  who  taught  in  Galilee — 

Who  was  His  teacher  then  ? 
Where  did  He  learn  the  truths  sublime 

That  stirred  the  hearts  of  men  ? 

He  was  a  man  of  humble  birth, 

His  town  despised  of  men, 
He  did  not  learn  in  college  walls, 

Who  was  His  teacher  then? 

He  was  not  taught  by  learned  scribe 

Or  praying  Pharisee; 
He  learned  from  God  who  made  the  sky 

And  stretched  it  o'er  the  sea. 

And  that  is  why  His  truths  were  new, 

No  musty  smell  of  books. 
They  had  perfume  from  flower  and  rose 

That  grew  by  running  brook. 

They  were  illumed  with  heavenly  light, 

And  not  by  tapers  dim ; 
They  came  direct  from  God  above 

That's  why  they  tell  of  Him. 

If  He'd  been  taught  by  Pharisee 
Befogged  His  mind  had  been, 

He  would  have  seen  through  other  eyes 
And  thus  His  vision  dimmed. 
110 


We  have  our  schools  at  present  day, 
That  turn  out  different  brands; 

A  Catholic  or  Protestant 
Whatever  the  time  demands. 

They  take  the  same  old  Holy  Book, 
And  prove  whatever  they  please ; 

And  make  disciples  of  their  creeds, 
'Tis  done  with  greatest  ease. 

We  have  same  teacher  now  at  hand 

Taught  Christ  in  Galilee, 
We  need  not  learn  at  second  hand 

He  will  our  teacher  be. 


HUNGER  CAUSE  OF  GREED. 

Those  little  lambs  are  innocent 
Their  souls  like  snowy  fleece, 

But  when  the  feed  is  very  scant 
Their  scramblings  then  increase. 

And  that  is  not  from  inborn  sin — 
But  all  from  lack  of  feed, 

They  each  now  craves  what  other  has 
Their  lack  now  causes  greed. 

The  man  of  plenty  he  is  cause 
Of  many  poor  man's  care — 

He  gathers  everything  in  reach 
And  leaves  the  grazing  bare. 
Ill 


CHILD-HOOD  HOME  IN  HOOSIER  SWAMPS. 

The  home  of  my  childhood  was  built  of  hewn  logs 

Cut  from  the  trees  that  grew  all  around, 
The  orchard  and  meadow  surrounded  by  bogs 

The  fences  all  made  from  clearing  the  ground; 
On  a  bench  by  the  well  summer  evenings  were 
spent 

While  shadows  were  gathering  in  the  tree  tops 

tall, 
Songsters  all  day  to  their  branches  were  sent 

Now  silently  wait  the  whippoorwill's  call. 

Chorus. 

In  the  evening  still  calls  the  whippoorwill, 

Then  the  owl  says,  "Who"  and  repeats  it  to 

"You," 

How  it  tickles  the  frogs  that  sing  in  the  bogs, 
All  life  out  of  sight  makes  merry  all  night, 
While  crickets  in  thickets  swell  anthem  to  dew. 

The  gate  to  the  orchard  led  out  from  the  yard, 

The  lane  wound  past  in  front  of  the  house 
To  the  creek  and  the  bridge  but  a  few  hundred 

yards 
Where  the  geese  followed  gander  to  swim  and 

to  browse; 
So  thither  I  wandered  a  bearheaded  child 

To  watch  the  bright  fish  swim  past  in  the  creek, 
112 


But  the  gander  flew  at  me  and  chased  me  so  wild 
I  followed  him  back  with  a  great  big  stick. 

Chorus. 

In  chasing  the  gander  I  found  his  gray  partner 

Concealed  in  the  willows  there  sitting  on  nest, 
Twas  plain  why  he  bit  me  and  followed  close  after 

Putting  my  courage  so  strangely  to  test. 
Each   spring  time   my   father   here   washed   his 
sheep  white, 

And  our  parson  came  here  his  flock  to  baptize, 
He  led  them  so  meekly  and  dipped  them  from 
sight 

Till  white  as  pure  saints  the  blackest  sheep  rise. 

Chorus. 

In  a  grave  by  the  creek  my  grandfather  lay, 

While  far  down  the  stream  the  lone  panther 

cries, 
But  I  am  living  alone  in  memory  today 

For  all  who  knew  me  have  gone  to  the  skies. 
I  am  waiting  to  hear  the  "whippoorwiU's"  call, 

I  am  waiting  to  hear  the  owl  say  "Who," 
I  am  waiting  again  to  meet  with  them  all 

If  St.  Peter  at  gate  will  let  me  thru. 


BEWILDERED. 

The  man  of  seventy  is  ten  times  made 
If  the  changes  we  hear  of  are  true, 

Which  body  take  when  from  death  he  awakes, 
Which  one  will  he  choose  for  new? 
113 


INTERNAL  DANGERS. 

No  foreign  foe  we  need  to  fear 

While  we  are  strong  within, 
Internal  strife  brings  trouble  near, 

Invites  some  foe  step  in. 

No  foes  need  cross  the  ocean  wide 

To  decimate  our  land, 
When  we  have  foes  to  fight  inside 

And  crime  on  every  hand. 

The  giddy  head  that  pleasure  seeks, 
The  feet  that  walk  toward  crime, 

The  hand  that's  raised  against  the  weak, 
Too  soon  will  ruin  find. 

The  moral  fiber's  what  we  need 
Much  more  than  arms  and  men, 

Destruction  comes  with  greatest  speed 
When  strife  our  land  doth  rend. 

Each  crime's  a  blow  at  Nation's  life 

As  sure  as  traitor's  gun, 
When  theft  and  murder  here  are  rife 

Death's  struggle  has  begun. 


114 


NOT  THE  BUCKET  BUT  THE  BOY. 

Not  the  moss  covered  bucket  as  a  treasure  I  hail, 

But  the  pair  of  bright  eyes  that  peered  in  the  pail, 

Not  the  pure  sparkling  water  that  dripped  from 

the  rim, 
But  the  rosy  pair  of  lips  that  sipped  from  the 

brim, 
Not  the  iron  bound  bucket  but  the  bare  footed 

boy 

Who  quaffed  at  the  well  is  the  source  of  my  joy. 
Oh  the  bare-footed  boy  with  a  leap  and  a  bound 
No  hat  on  his  head  his  feet  on  the  ground. 

The  path  thru  the  orchard  from  infancy  knew, 
The  trees  where  the  reddest  and  rarest  fruit  grew, 

From  the  deep  tangled  wildwood  he  peered  at 
the  mill, 

And  heard  the  wild  cataract  that  never  is  still, 
Till  he  climed  on  the  rock  where  the  cataract  fell, 
And  fished  from  the  bridge  'bove  the  foam  and 
the  swell. 

Oh  the  bare-footed  boy  with  a  leap  and  a  bound 

He  loves  the  out  door,  the  cataract's  sound. 

Not  the  path  to  the  well  but  the  one  to  the  brook, 

Suits  the  bare  footed  boy  when  shoes  are  forsook, 

With  pockets  all  empty  seeking  pebbles  to  fill, 

He  wades  where    they  sparkle    in    the    swift 

rippling  rill; 

115 


When  his  pockets  are  bulging  with  brightest  red 
keel, 

More  rich  than  a  Gould  he  surely  doth  feel. 

Oh  the  bare-footed  boy  with  a  leap  and  a  bound 
No  hat  on  his  head  he  saunters  around. 

With  hands  on  his  treasures  he  marches  to  fence, 

To  try  his  bright  colors  that  appeal  to  his  sense, 

Then  the  cot  of  his  father  is  embellished  with 

keel, 
Then  the  dairy  house  nigh   it  to  this  artist 

appeals — 
Not  the  proud  strutting  gobbler  with  conceit  to 

the  brim 

Could  call  his  attention  to  the  colors  on  him. 
Oh  the  bare-footed  boy  with  a  leap  and  a  bound 
He  owns  the  plantation  and  the  regions  around. 

The  wood  and  the  creek  more  sought  than  the 

field, 
The  wide   spreading  stream   more   pleasure   did 

yield ; 
From  his  father's  plantation  he  sought  the  wide 

world 

With  a  well  in  his  heart  ambition  had  stirred; 
Wherever  he  journeys  he  drinks  from  this  well 
And  thinks  of  plantation  where  his  parents  doth 

dwell. 

Oh  the  bare-footed  boy  with  a  leap  and  a  bound 
Will  find  the  out  door  and  the  world  adound. 


116 


WHO  IS  A  MURDERER? 

Man  is  a  murderer  filled  with  his  prey 
Each  time  he  kills  and  eats, 
Sure  as  the  cat  that  kill  the  rat 

And  eats  it  in  her  way. 

May  blame  the  man  don't  blame  the  cat, 

Hunger  compelled  her  deed; 

You  rub  her  fur  she'll  surely  purr, 
Feed  man  and  he  will  chat. 

Man  seeking  blood  on  battle  field, 

Mosquito  on  your  face, 

Shows  one  will  fight  for  greed  or  spite. 
Both  seek  the  blood  you  yield. 

But  God  of  Heaven  to  each  is  kind 

Is  kind  to  big  and  small; 

To  tiny  things  He  giveth  wings 
That  all  may  pleasure  find. 

In  spirit  man  is  often  kind 

For  spirit  is  from  God; 

And  man  may  love  like  God  above 
When  he  has  Godly  mind. 

E'en  flesh  shows  signs  of  better  things, 
Some  mouths  don't  feed  on  meat, 
Some  men  of  might  don't  live  to  fight, 

Some  bees  have  lost  their  stings. 
117 


NUT  GATHERING  IN  IOWA. 

The  silent  frost  had  nipped  the  corn, 
But  bright  was  this  September  morn, 
The  forest  leaves  were  sifting  down 
The  prairie  grass  was  turning  brown. 

Three  little  children  on  the  farm, 
With  three  little  pails  on  brown  arms, 
Thirty  brown  toes  on  six  bare  feet 
Were  off  for  nuts  the  squirrels  to  beat. 

Two  little  boys  nine  and  'leven, 

Little  sister  just  past  seven 

The  beckoning  woods  was  mile  away 
Past  where  father  was  making  hay. 

The  winding  path  led  down  the  hill 
Between  steep  slopes  where  met  two  rills, 
The  hazelnuts  were  turning  brown, 
The  hick'rynuts  were  dropping  down. 

Their  nimble  toes  splashed  in  the  brook, 

The  darting  fish  seek  stony  nook, 

Each  time  they  cross  this  winding  rill 
They  hunt  more  nuts  their  pails  to  fill. 

They  knew  each  tree  with  largest  size; 
These  first  were  sought  as  greatest  prize. 

They  knew  the  shell-bark  tree  from  smooth. 

Nuts  from  the  shell-bark  trees  they  chose. 
118 


Twenty-three  times  they  cross  this  rill, 

And  gather  nuts  their  pails  to  fill ; 

Each  time  they  cross  have  farther  strayed 
They  find  it  fun  to  splash  and  wade. 

They  reach  the  river  bank  by  noon, 
By  early  settlers  called  Raccoon. 

Between  smooth  stones  some  nuts  they  crack, 

Then  stow  the  rest  away  in  sack. 

They  toss  each  shell  upon  the  wave; 
The  darting  fish  some  kernels  crave ; 

The  lads  now  long  for  line  and  hook, 

And  string  of  fish  for  ma  to  cook. 

Near  by  they  spy  some  walnut  trees; 
They  hear  the  nuts  fall  in  the  breeze. 

They  gather  soon  and  fill  their  pails 

A  bigger  task  they  now  assail. 

In  hidden  nook  they  make  a  pile 
And  keep  on  gathering  longest  while, 

Then  lay  on  bark  and  leaves  of  green 

So  walnuts  hid  may  not  be  seen. 

"We'll  come  this  way  another  day 
We'll  shell  the  nuts  and  pack  away," 
So  home  they  turn  with  plans  prolonged, 
Their  clatter  heard  by  hills  along. 

All  passed  quite  well  till  shadows  fall, 

And  whippoorwill  begins  to  call ; 

And  wise  old  owl  puts  question  "who" 
They  think  for  sure  he  means  them,  too. 
119 


The  cows  were  wending  home  their  way; 

Each  side  of  path  they  browse  and  stray 
When  tinkle  of  the  bell  they  hear, 
They  all  at  once  forget  their  fear. 

The  children  hoot  and  ding  their  pails, 
The  straying  cows  form  in  the  trails ; 
The  ding  of  pail  and  dong  of  bell, 
Was  heard  at  home  their  fears  expel. 

The  milking  done  the  supper  eat, 
The  little  pilgrims  wash  their  feet, 
Then  cuddle  up  in  trundle  bed 
And  mother  smooths  their  frowzy  heads. 


HE  FOUND  NO  RHYME  FOR  CUPID. 

A  poet  with  a  heart  all  aglow 
His  sweetheart  effusion  would  show, 
Ventured   "I'm   wounded   of   Cupid — 
Would  say  more  were  I  not  stupid." 

"I  know  you're  a  poet,"  she  said, 
"So  is  a  sheep  a  goet,"  then  fled. 
He's  a  bachelor,  she  an  old  maid, 
All  caused  by  poor  rhyme  they'd  made. 

120 


COMRADES. 

Beneath  this  spreading  tree  we  camped 

Beside  this  rippling  stream, 
About  us  towered  the  mountains  high 

It  now  seems  like  a  dream. 

'Twas  here  we  built  our  lone  campfire 

And  cooked  our  little  meal, 
And  here  we  sat  as  moon-beams  fell 

While  comrade  ties  we  feel. 

We  talked  of  trails  across  the  range 
Past  years  come  fresh  in  sight, 

As  here  we  sat  and  talked  by  fire 
Till  far  into  the  night. 

Our  blankets  spread  beneath  the  stars 

We  woke  with  early  dawn, 
His  way  led  cross  the  lofty  range 

Where  all  my  comrades  gone. 

I  see  the  ashes  where  we  met 

I  light  the  fire  again, 
I'd  see  his  face  by  old  campfire 

I  look  and  look  in  vain. 


121 


OLD  ERIN. 

When  I  think  of  Old  Erin,  I  think  of  her  lakes; 
I  think  of  St.  Patrick,  who  banished  her  snakes; 

I  think  of  her  lasses,  and  all  of  her  charms; 

I  think  of  her  children,  who  are  reared  in  her 
arms. 

I  think  of  her  freedom,  held  dearer  than  life; 

I  think  of  her  suffering,  of  blood  and  of  strife ; 
Though  she's  conquered,  'tis  only  in  name, 
The  fire  is  still  burning,  ready  to  flame. 

I  think  of  her  wit,  ready  to  spring 
A  bright  little  joke,  has  a  sunny  lit  wing 
It  carries  a  burden,  away  from  the  heart, 
Ere  it  has  time  to  canker  and  smart. 

The  shores  of  old  England  were  invaded  by  Rome, 
But  the  Green  Little  Isle  defended  her  home, 
Till  Saints  with  the  Cross  and  banner  of  love 
Conquered  the  Isle  for  the  kingdom  above. 


122 


THE  WHITE  MAN  AND  THE  RED. 

'Twas  far  back  in  an  early  day 

A  white  man  was  strolling  along  the  bay, 

As  on  his  shoulder  he  bore  a  gun 

Was  out  for  some  game  but  more  for  the  fun. 

"How"  says  the  Red  he  chanced  to  meet, 
"Don't  speak"  says  the  White  ignoring  the  greet. 
Indignant  the  Indian  then  made  reply 
"No  White  may  hunt  neath  the  Red  Man's  sky, 

The  land  is  all  ours,  'tis  fenced  by  the  seas, 
The  game,  too,  is  ours  that  roam  'neath  the  trees ; 
You  came  to  our  shores  for  plunder  and  gain 
Return  to  your  land  across  the  wide  Main." 

"You  came  to  our  shore  to  enlighten  our  mind — 
Then  kill  us  and  show  us  how  to  be  kind, 
You  tell  us  of  love  and  the  Golden  Rule 
But  take  us  for  idiots  and  easy  to  fool." 

"Well,"  says  the  White  Man,  leveling  his  gun, 
"If  really  you're  wise  you'll  be  on  the  run. 
The  precepts  of  truth  to  you  we've  read, 
We'll  try  our  persuasion  and  fill  you  with  lead." 


123 


NOTHING  STINGY  ABOUT  GOD. 

There's  nothing  stingy  in  God's  ways 
What's  higher  than  the  skies, 

What's  wider  than  the  sunlit  rays 
That  travel  to  your  eyes? 

There's  nothing  narrow  'bout  the  deep 

Or  little  about  the  waves, 
Or  low  about  the  mountains  steep 

Against  whose  base  they  lave. 

There's  nothing  stingy  'bout  the  hues 

God  paints  upon  the  skies, 
How  gorgeous  are  the  morning  dews 

That  greet  the  bright  sun  rise. 

There's  nothing  mean  about  the  earth 

The  rivers  and  its  plains, 
Where  all  the  forms  of  life  find  birth 

To  whom  God  sends  His  rains. 

There's  nothing  stingy  'bout  the  years 

They're  full  of  many  days, 
We  know  they'll  come,  we  have  no  fears 

For  them  we  plan  our  ways. 

There's  nothing  close  about  the  air 
There's  plenty  for  each  breath, 

It  never  gives  us  any  care 
There's  plenty  to  our  death. 
124 


There's  nothing  stingy  'bout  the  rain 

It  falls  upon  the  fields, 
It  is  not  sold  for  price  or  gain 

And  brings  us  'bundant  yields  . 

There's  nothing  stingy  'bout  God's  grace 
There's  mercy  for  each  man, 

God's  spirit  bids  you  to  embrace 
There  is  no  narrow  plan. 

There  are  no  narrow  high-built  walls 

To  treasure  knowledge  in, 
The  truth  forever  ever  calls 

To  each  to  drink  from  brim. 


THE  OLD  STORY. 

Tell  me  that  story  as  once  it  was  told, 

Tell  it  as  sweetly  to  me ; 
Then  I  will  follow  as  they  did  of  old, 

I'll  journey  and  listen  to  Thee. 

Tell  it  to  me  as  I  wander  alone 

Along  life's  turbulent  sea, 
When  sorely  tossed  on  its  billowy  wave, 

Be  there  and  calm  it  for  me. 


125 


EACH  AGE  ONCE  MODERN. 

Each  age  looks  back  on  one  before 

And  thinks  of  it  as  old, 
Just  as  each  son  looks  back  at  sire 

Thinks  self  a  newer  mould. 

When  we  are  gone  a  newer  age 
Will  backward  gaze  at  past, 

Esteem  themselves  as  up  to  date 
And  worthy  long  to  last. 

So  Egypt  thought  and  Babylon 
And  nations  back  of  them, 

And  backward,  backward  long  before 
Each  age  was  modern  then. 

Our  age  will  soon  be  rubbish  past 

Cast  in  a  grave  forgot, 
We  are  not  made  of  stuff  to  last 

Remember  fate  of  Lot. 

Our  cities  soon  will  pass  from  view 
Our  dreadnaughts  'neath  the  wave, 

And  all  that  we  now  boast  as  new 
Oblivion  meet  in  grave. 


126 


THE  SONG  OF  CHRIST. 

Christ  woke  the  chord  of  love 
He  let  God's  sunshine  in, 

He  didn't  talk  of  blood 
As  remedy  to  sin. 

He  talked  about  the  field, 
About  the  fertile  ground, 

About  abundant  yield, 

When  goodly  deeds  abound. 

He  talked  about  the  rain 

Which  God  of  kindness  sends, 
Upon  the  good  and  vain 

Without  a  selfish  end. 

No  sacrifice  He  told 

No  costly  price  for  sin, 
The  bloody  way  of  old 

The  church  has  fallen  in. 

No  life  for  life  He  said— 
But  kindness  for  a  wrong, 

And  this  is  how  He  read 
The  new  salvation  song. 

It  was  no  song  of  blood 
No  crimson  plunge  for  sin, 

The  church  now  mounts  the  flood 
With  all  the  blood  washed  in. 
127 


TREES  HAVE  THEIR  OWN  FEELING. 

Trees  have  their  feeling  not  our  feeling 
They  quiver  in  each  breeze  that  blows, 

Trees  all  are  seeing  not  our  seeing 
Peeking  out  where  sunlight  shows. 

The  vine  is  clinging  not  with  fingers 

It  has  its  way  of  holding  on; 
The  flowers  no  wisdom  knows  but  lingers 

Till  the  warm,  warm  days  are  gone. 

The  buds  doth  know  but  not  our  knowing 

They  open  at  the  proper  time, 
They  may  not  hope  as  we  keep  hoping 

But  still  they  find  a  sunny  clime. 

They  all  are  toiling  not  our  toiling 
They  all  keep  spinning  day  and  night, 

And  when  they  wear  their  garments  soiling 
Like  us  they  change  for  new  ones  bright. 

God  helps  us  all  as  we  keep  working 
Both  man  and  tree  and  bud  and  vine, 

His  hands  unseen  no  duty  shirking 
That's  why  our  hearts  keep  beating  time. 


128 


COMING  HOME. 

"How-do,  Mother  Earth,  thou  gave  me  life, 
How-do,  I'm  coming  back  to  thee, 

Have  found  each  day  was  fraught  with  strife 
I  come  back  home  now  shelter  me. 

How-do,  Mother  Earth,  I  am  thy  child, 
How-do,  I  know  no  place  like  here, 

I  lost  my  way  in  desert  wild 

I  come  back  home  I  have  no  fear. 

How-do,  Mother  Earth,  I  come  to  rest, 

How-do,  this  body  all  is  thine, 
Of  all  thou  had  I  found  it  best 

Oh  here  it  is  no  longer  mine. 

How-do,  Mother  Earth,  make  up  my  bed, 
And  Mother  Dear  thy  sweetest  flowers 

Plant  some  to  bloom  above  my  head 
Tell  God  to  water  them  with  showers. 

Good  night  Mother  Earth."  "Good  night  my 
child 

Good  night  I'll  shelter  you  from  storm 
The  night  may  blow  a  little  wild 

I'll  wake  you  in  the  morn." 


129 


WHERE  GOLDEN  RULE  DON'T  APPLY. 

We  went  to  Japs  with  out  stretched  arms 

Told  them  of  wondrous  love, 
They  came  to  us  and  found  no  charms 

We  gave  them  backward  shove! 

The  Golden  Rule  don't  here  apply 

In  case  of  Japanese, 
Christ  must  have  meant  that  we  should  try 

Another  rule  for  these. 

The  sermon  on  the  mount  is  fine 
'Twill  do  to  preach  to  them — 

But  when  we  come  to  walk  the  line 
'Tis  best  its  rules  to  bend. 

To  love  the  man  who  does  us  wrong 
His  wrong  with  kindness  pay, 

Is  nice  to  teach  and  sing  in  song 
But  we're  not  built  that  way. 

Moral. 

If  we  are  Christians  let  us  walk 

As  Christ  has  taught  us  to, 
We  can  not  fool  men  by  our  talk 

Unless  we  really  do. 


130 


THE  DOG  AND  THE  WOLF. 

The  dog  and  the  wolf  each  chance  to  stray 

And  the  other  meet  by  a  near  highway, 

As  both  were  idle  on  a  sunny  day 

They  sought  acquaintance  and  began  to  play. 

Said  the  dog  to  the  wolf  " which  way  are  you 

bound?" 

"Oh,"  says  the  wolf,  "I'm  sauntering  around 
To  pick  up  a  lamb  should  one  be  found, 
I  know  how  to  run  from  the  old  grey  hound." 

"Why  do  you  run?"  said  the  dog  in  reply. 
Answered  the  wolf  with  a  hidden  sigh, 
"In  playing  my  game  I  have  to  be  shy ; 
I've  a  quick  scent  and  a  very  keen  eye, 
Am  ever  on  watch  when  gunner  is  nigh, 
'Tis  best  to  evade  him  so  I  am  sly — 
To  be  honest  my  friend  I'm  not  ready  to  die." 

Says  the  dog  to  the  wolf,  "Then  come  with  me. 
Mistaken  you  are  in  thinking  you're  free. 
'Tis  plain  you're  a  thief  as  all  can  see 
And  that  is  the  reason  you  have  to  flee." 
"Well,"  says  the  wolf,  "I'd  like  to  repent— 
My  habits  are  old,  too  old  to  be  bent, 
And  then  I'd  be  watched  wherever  I  went. 
Suspicion  is  very  acute  of  scent." 

"I  am  a  wolf,"  was  the  dog's  next  say, 
"Long  I  have  quit  my  former  old  way, 

131 


And  now  with  my  master  content  to  stay, 
I  eat  three  meals  and  sleep  on  the  hay. 
Remember  old  friend  I  sleep  in  the  shed 
With  one  I  open  when  master's  in  bed — 
Don't  prowl  around  with  a  stealthy  tread 
When  I  awake  master  he'll  fill  you  with  lead." 


Th«  First  Locomotiv* 

SIXTY  YEARS  AGO  IN  IOWA. 

"Sam  Nickson  came  last  night,  'twas  late ; 

He  said  he  rode  part  way; 
He  says  Buchanan's  President — 

That's  what  he  heard  them  say. 

He  rode  in  cars  to  Burlington ; 

He  thinks  they'll  build  this  way; 
He  says  it  beats  a-footing  it, 

Tho  man  has  got  to  pay." 


FORTY  YEARS  AGO. 

'Who  was  that  man  with  old  ox-cart 
That  went  along  the  road  ? 
132 


I  know  I've  seen  that  red  off  ox, 
He  had  a  heavy  load." 

"Oh,  'twas  the  man  across  the  creek, 
He  said  he'd  been  to  mill ; 

He  came  this  side,  'twas  better  road 
And  not  so  steep  a  hill." 


The  Pint  Harvesting  Machine 

TODAY. 

"Who  was  that  man  with  touring  car? 
Was  surely  on  the  tear !" 

"I  met  him  at  the  Golden  Gate- 
He's  coming  from  the  Fair." 


133 


THE  LITTLE  STREAM. 

In  childhood  days  I  loved  to  play 

And  wade  in  little  stream, 
That  had  its  source  in  father's  farm, 

Into  my  life  it  seems. 

Each  little  nook  and  winding  crook 

And  ripple  o'er  the  sand, 
Now  wound  their  way  into  my  life 

As  well  as  thru  the  land. 

And  when  I  had  some  older  grown 

I  wandered  farther  down, 
To  where  it  joined  another  creek 

That  came  from  hills  around.. 

The  little  fish  came  up  to  here, 
But  darted  back  their  way — 

I  wished  to  see  from  whence  they  came 
When  wading  down  each  day. 

I  wade  till  creek  leaves  prairie  slopes 
And  flows  among  the  trees, 

The  hills  rise  steep  with  rocky  ledge 
And  hushed  seems  every  breeze! 

The  mystery  now  grows  more  intense- 

So  wish  to  farther  see, 
But  hillsides  rise  to  close  me  in 

And  fear  creeps  over  me ! 
134 


At  last  with  father  by  my  side 

I  wander  farther  down, 
Each  step  we  take  we  seem  to  tread 

On  strange  and  unknown  ground. 

We  come  to  where  the  streamlet  falls 

Into  a  river  grand, — 
No  more  I  know  from  whence  it  comes 

Than  does  the  drifting  sand. 

I've  gazed  upon  the  ocean  since 
Where  meets  the  deep  blue  sky, 

And  backward  moves  the  infinite 
From  gaze  of  human  eye. 


SIMPLICITY  OF  FAITH. 

My  faith  in  God  is  most  childlike 
Too  simple  to  express, 

I  came  from  Him  to  Him  return 
With  Him  is  Blessedness. 

I  am  myself  and  no  one  else 

As  on  thru  life  I  go, 
My  body  changes  many  times, 

Myself  the  same  I  know. 

My  God  is  God  forevermore 
Tho  I  may  often  stray, 

I  will  return  to  God  ere  long 
And  never  go  away. 
135 


CUSTOM  WAS  TO  EAT  PART  OF  SACRIFICE, 

Not  far  removed  from  cannibal 

Or  from  the  beast  of  prey, 
Was  Abram  when  his  son  he  bound 

And  raised  his  knife  to  slay. 

Three  days  he  sought  this  lonely  waste 

Then  reared  a  pile  of  wood, 
On  which  to  burn  or  roast  his  child ! — 

To  priest  flesh  tasted  good. 

We  ne'er  may  say  what  he  had  done 

Out  in  this  desert  waste ! 
Had  he  not  found  a  lamb  to  slay 

That  doubtless  met  his  taste. 

The  loosened  son  enjoyed  the  feast 
And  thought  how  close  the  call! 

One  moment  more  and  he'd  been  slain! 
It  must  be  plain  to  all. 

He  did  not  take  his  servant  near 
Lest  he  might  see  the  deed! — 

But  Abram  could  perform  the  act 
And  view  his  Isaac  bleed.  . 


136 


BE  KIND  TO  THE  LOWLY. 

"Not  much  I  claim/'  says  lowly  worm — 

"The  simple  right  to  be, 
Then  spare  my  life  'tis  all  I  have 

'Twas  God  who  gave  it  me." 

"Oh  spare  my  life,"  says  butterfly, 

"This  is  my  happy  day, 
I  must  improve  each  sunny  hour 

I  have  not  long  to  stay." 

"Step  not  on  me,"  says  busy  ant, 

"I  have  much  work  to  do, 
Think  of  the  crippled  limb  you'll  make, 

No  way  to  get  one  new." 

"Don't  crush  my  shell,"  says  helpless  snail, 

"For  God  was  good  to  me, 
He  gave  it  me  'tis  my  dear  home 

As  you  can  plainly  see." 

So  everything  that  God  has  matie 

Is  speaking  in  His  ear, 
If  we  abuse  them  they  will  call! 

Be  sure  that  God  will  hear. 


137 


BEAUTIES  OF  ART  AND  NATURE  CON 
TRASTED. 

Man's  works  of  art  will  pass  away, 
Their  brightest  colors  fade  ; 

The  colors  in  the  evening  sky 
Ne'er  lose  one  tint  or  shade. 

What  art  dare  paint  a  living  rose, 
Or  blush  on  maiden's  cheek,  — 

They  all  may  imitate,  forsooth, 
To  copy  oft  they  seek. 

I've  seen  the  ocean  sleep  'neath  sky, 

The  sun  set  in  her  blue  ; 
I've  seen  her  ripples  change  to  smiles 

'Neath  sky  of  every  hue. 

No  artist  taught  God  how  to  paint, 

Or  how  to  colors  blend, 
Or  how  to  tint  each  flower  in  vale  — 

The  air  sweet  fragrance  lend. 

There  are  no  rivals  of  His  art, 
His  works  are  always  known  ; 

He  never  imitates  poor  man  — 
His  works  are  all  His  own. 


138 


MAN'S  HABITATION. 

In  a  lone  sunny  wood 

far  from  habitation, 
'Mid  mountains  so  lofty 

their  tops  reached  the  sky, 
I  spied  out  a  dwelling 

with  stately  foundation, 
With  no  one  who  built  it 

seemingly  nigh. 

Every  surrounding 

was  grand  and  imposing, 
Arranged  for  a  dweller 

of  taste  and  of  cast, 
But  no  one  with  strength 

however  enduring 
Could  build  or  erect  it 

any  time  in  the  past. 

Within  were  all  foods 

the  palates  now  tempting, 
No  living  were  there 

to  enjoy  or  partake; 
With  flavor  of  fruits 

the  breezes  were  scenting, 
The  sense  of  no  living 

was  there  to  awake. 

While  gazing  on  mansion 

from  the  unseen  arising 
139 


Came  beautiful  forms 

with  cheeks  and  with  eyes, 
Full  of  emotion 

and  full  of  desiring, 
Possession  to  claim 

to  my  greatest  surprise. 

Everything  there 

they  found  for  their  using, 
But  the  builder  and  owner 

was  nowhere  in  sight. 
So  it  was  wicked 

folly  amusing, 
How  little  they  thought 

of  His  title  and  right, 

How  little  they  knew 

of  their  own  uprising, 
How  little  they  knew 

from  whence  they  came, 
How  little  they  knew 

of  their  Host  was  surprising ; 
How  strangely  they  sought 

to  detract  from  His  fame. 


THE  INDIAN  AND  THE  SNAIL. 

The  Indian  and  Snail  are  always  at  home, 
They  pack  their  house  with  them  wherever  they 

roam; 
They  camp  where  there's  feed,  what  matters  it 

then, 

They  'ave  plenty  to  eat  and  nothing  to  spend. 

140 


THIS  FEED  IS  DRY. 

"Before  this  generation's  past 

I  will  return  again, 
The  wicked  all  in  Hell  will  cast"— 

These  words  now  fall  in  vain. 

Each  generation  since  that  day 
Has  claimed  this  promise  theirs; 

Like  morning  star  cheered  Christian's  way, 
And  lightened  all  their  cares. 

The  wicked  have  been  made  repent, 

And  flock  into  the  fold 
When  told  the  words  for  them  were  meant, 

'Till  telling  oft  grew  old. 

These  words  for  near  two  thousand  years 
Have  worked  to  frighten  men, 

And  raised  in  timid  many  fears, 
And  filled  up  flock  in  pen. 

But  time  has  come  to  face  the  fact, 

The  Shepherd  can't  return; 
On  saner  theories  work  and  act — 

For  truth  we  ne'er  should  spurn. 

To  thoughtful  minds  our  Shepherd's  near, 

And  leads  us  all  thru  life ; 
And  comforts  bring  when  we  would  fear, 

And  helps  us  meet  its  strife. 
141 


We  each  may  find  in  doing  good 

A  comfort  most  complete, 
While  thoughts  of  God  will  furnish  food 

And  be  our  daily  meat. 

Of  course,  we'll  hear  of  Noah's  Ark, 
And  of  the  wicked  drowned, 

Because  they  ate  and  did  not  hark 
When  Noah  came  around. 


REFLECTIONS  ON  THE  SAND  BAGS. 

The  French  are  protecting  their  cathedrals  on  the  faring 
line  with  casings  of  sand  bags.  The  Apostles  and  Savior 
in  marble  above  and  about  the  main  entrance  are  thus  pro 
tected,  and  the  scene  of  the  last  judgment  and  a  whole  host 
of  angels, 

Sand  bags  piled  to  protect  the  Saints 
From  the  fire  of  the  Christian's  gun! 

Profession — Shame  how  patched  the  paint! 
Its  wearer  seems  a  laughing  pun. 

Prophets  of  Peace  bearing  "Good  Will" 
Enclosed  by  bags  from  raging  man, 

Their  voices  hushed,  their  love  now  chilled, 
By  bursting  bombs,  and  bags  of  sand. 

Last  Judgment  scene  hidden  by  bags! 

Hands  of  the  Savior  stretched  in  vain. 
Profession  now  is  worse  than  rags 

In  sight  of  millions  bleeding  slain! 
142 


REMEMBERING  THE  SPARROWS. 

I  stood  'neath  the  limbs  of  the  green  fig  tree, 
The  song  and  twitter  of  birds  o'erhead ; 

The  sun  and  the  breeze  played  merry  and  free, 
Sweetly  I  mused  to  myself  and  said : 

"I'll  gather  ripe  figs,  but  not  every  one, 

For  Father  in  Heaven  the  sparrows  doth  feed; 

Will  they  not  hunger  when  all  these  are  gone  ? 
Of  some  of  these  figs  my  Father  hath  need." 

When  gathering,  I  left  some  ripe  ones  up  high ; 

My    birds    and    my    Father    in  Heaven    were 

pleased ; 
Songsters  with  music  then  often  were  sent, 

Richly  repaying  me  for  all  of  these ; 

And  God  looked  down  in  my  heart  and  smiled, 
And  said  He  was  pleased  at  what  I  had  done, 

Assuringly  whispered  and  called  me  His  child, 
Told  me  by  kindness  Heaven  is  won. 

RESULT 

When  I  told  it  to  wife,  she  said  they  were  high, 
Had  I  the  arms  I'd  reach  to  the  sky; 
Well  that  may  be  true,  but  I  did  not  try — 
I  saw  the  joke  and  twinkle  in  eye. 


143 


THE  WOLF  AND  THE  GENTLEMAN. 

A  gent  of  leisure  in  passing  one  day 

Chanced  on  a  wolf  by  the  busy  highway 

And  says,  "For  a  living  pray  what  do  you  do?" 
The  wolf  made  answer,  "I  live  like  you ; 

You  eat  every  day  at  the  toiler's  expense, 
My  preying  on  lambs  is  no  greater  offence." 

Says  the  gent  to  the  wolf,  "I  keep  within  law." 
"True,"  says  the  wolf;  "I  live  by  my  jaw, 

My  teeth  helps  me  and  the  lamb  feels  the  pain, 
The  law  helps  you  get  the  poor  man's  gain. 

I  am  a  wolf,  unlettered,  unlearned, 

Like  you,  my  meals  I  never  have  earned, 

But  you  have  developed  into  a  man  of  sense — 
Your's  is  the  crime,  mine  the  offence." 


CONSISTENCY  A  JEWEL. 

Why  Heathen  mother  blame  who  gives  her  babe 

to  flame 

To  soothe  her  Maker's  ire, — 
And  Hebrew  father  praise  whose  hand  with  knife 

is  raised 
O'er  child  on  altar  fire  ? 

144 


TWO  LITTLE  CHICKS. 

Two  little  chicks  held  a  worm 
Hard  tugging  at  each  end, 

As  innocent  as  nature  makes ; — 
Can  you  their  acts  condemn. 

Of  course  the  stronger  got  the  worm 

And  hastened  to  devour, 
In  this  you  see  the  man  of  flesh 

He  holds  all  in  his  power. 

But  spirit  life  steps  in  and  says 

Be  kind  to  fellow  man, 
A  greater  pleasure  you  will  find 

To  help  him  when  you  can. 

Perhaps  the  kindness  you  bestow 
Will  come  in  blessings  back; — 

Be  sure  you  don't  have  this  in  view 
Or  act  will  kindness  lack. 

The  mother  hen  now  caught  a  worm 
And  called  her  chicks  in  haste ; 

The  law  of  love  in  her  was  strong, 
More  strong  than  her  own  taste. 


145 


HER  CHARMS. 

The  colors  of  the  rain-bow's  hues 

I  see  in  your  bright  eyes ; — 
In  rain-bow  has  a  gleam  of  hope, 

In  your's  points  to  the  skies. 

The  blush  of  rose  of  beauty  speaks, — 

Reflected  in  your  cheek 
Has  sweeter  charms  that  hold  me  near, 

E'en  tho  I  do  not  speak. 

The  dewdrops  sparkle  in  my  path 

If  you  are  by  my  side; 
The  dewdrops  all  to  diamonds  turn, — 

But  you  I  chiefly  prize. 

The  lilies  seem  so  very  white, 

But  seem  not  half  so  pure 
As  when  I  grasp  your  gentle  hand,   • 

And  heart  of  you  is  sure. 

The  honey  bee  with  nectar  sweet 

Returning  from  the  flowers, 
Bear  not  the  sweetness  of  your  lips — 

I'd  meet  you  'neath  the  bowers. 

I've  heard  the  notes  the  songsters  sing 
Perched  in  the  tree  top  tall, 

Your  voice  has  charms  they  never  struck, 
I'm  listening  for  your  call. 
146 


THE  UPPER  FOLD  THINNING  OUT. 

An  angel  came  to  me  one  night 

And  said  the  upper  fold 
Was  filled  with  souls  who  sought  delights 

Such  as  they  had  of  old. 

He  said  in  space  new  worlds  were  made 

And  fitted  up  for  them; 
There  they  would  flock  when  they  were  bade 

And  live  again  as  men. 

He  said  in  space  were  worlds  yet  crude, 

In  time  be  homes  most  fair 
For  souls  who  tired  of  multitudes 

Who  thronged  the  ways  up  there. 

He  said  these  souls  had  tired  of  songs 
And  worship  round  the  throne ; 

And  had  for  ages  pined  and  longed 
Again  on  earth  to  roam. 

They  longed  for  home  and  children,  too, 

And  patter  of  their  feet; 
Where  they  again  might  love  and  woo, 

And  round  the  hearthstone  meet. 

Were  tired  of  hallelujah's  songs, 

Were  tired  of  standing  round, 
Were  tired  of  all  the  bowing  throngs, 

And  all  of  Heaven's  sound ; 
147 


Preferred  the  spread  around  the  board, 
With  children  at  their  side, 

And  little  dainties  wife  had  stored 
For  meal  at  eventide. 

The  upper  fold  was  thinning  out, 
Not  what  it  once  had  been ; 

And  this  is  how  it  came  about 
They  loved  this  world  we're  in. 


A  HEAVENLY  SWING. 

I'm  swinging,  swinging  unto  Thee, 

I  feel  I'm  swinging  unto  Thee, 
At  every  swing  I  feel  I'm  nearer, 

I'm  swinging,  swinging  unto  Thee.  . 

The  ties  that  bind  me  to  this  earth 

Are  loosening,  hold  no  more ! 
Behold  the  ship  about  to  sail — 

I'm  loosening,  loosening  from  the  shore. 

To  this  vain  world  I  cling  no  more, 
The  arms  of  God  now  hold  me  round ; 

Then  back  to  Thee,  I  swing,  I  swing, 

Tis  heavenly  ground  I've  found,  I've  found 

148 


EACH  A  PART  OF  THIS  WORLD. 

I'm  part  of  this  big  world  of  ours 

In  body  and  in  mind, 
My  body  draws  from  common  earth, 

My  soul  from  source  Divine. 

Yes,  every  thought's  been  thought  before, 

And  every  love  been  loved; 
Material  for  the  hopes  we  build 

Is  drawn  from  Heaven  above. 

Our  bodies  loaned  us  from  the  earth 

Must  be  returned  to  same, 
That  generations  yet  to  come 

May  work  them  in  their  frame. 

My  frame  is  part  of  all  who've  lived 

In  ages  heretofore, 
My  brain  has  been  in  brain  of  race, 

I  think  their  thoughts  once  more. 

Our  bodies  brother  to  the  tree, 

And  to  the  fields  of  grain, 
And  to  each  man  on  earth  we  meet, — 

All  meet  in  dust  again. 

In  mind  we're  brother  to  the  saint, 
They  had  same  hopes  and  fears, 

And  all  our  joys  they  felt  before 
And  wept  same  briny  tears. 
149 


Some  tears  are  in  the  rolling  deep,  , 
And  some  in  beating  rain, — 

We  see  them  in  our  brothers'  eyes — 
Why  should  we  give  him  pain. 

The  body's  force  within  our  frame 
Is  part  of  world's  great  force, 

And  all  who  ever  lived  on  earth 
Have  drawn  from  common  source. 

So  when  two  hands  in  friendship  clasp, 
These  hands  have  clasped  before, 

In  distant  lands  in  ages  past — 
None  part  to  meet  no  more. 


THE  RED  MAN,  THE  WHITE,  THEN  THE  JAP. 

The  White  Man  took  this  land  from  Red 

Who  made  poor  use  of  it ; 
Now  to  our  shores  the  Japs  are  led 

Because  we  idly  sit. 

The  Jap  will  raise  from  acre  lone 

Far  more  than  we  from  four ; 
Here  he  will  come,  this  land  will  own, 

As  White  Man  did  before. 

We  love  our  pleasures  more  than  race, 

Our  offspring  less  and  less ; 
The  Japs  will  come  and  fill  their  place 

While  we  go  off  in  dress. 
150 


WRITTEN  AFTER  ATTENDING  C.  S.  CHURCH. 

Matter  is  deception  and  Spirit  is  real — 

'Tis  the  Spirit  of  babe  not  the  face  that  smiles ; 

The  press  of  its  fingers  she  seems  to  feel 
Deceives  the  mother  and  only  beguiles. 

The  flesh  is  not  real  as  each  one  knows, 

The  lips  do  not  speak,  appearance  deceives; 

And  kneeling  to  God  in  Spirit  we  go — 

'Tis  the  Spirit  that  prays  and  blessings  receives. 

When  kissing  our  friends  and  saying  good  by, 
They're  leaving  us  not,  all  flesh  is  but  naught; 

And  when  at  their  grave  we  weep  and  we  cry, 
'Tis  only  deception  if  we're  rightly  taught. 

Our  joys  and  our  sorrows  because  of  our  frame, 
Our  wife  and  our  children  that  sit  on  our  knee, 

Nowise  are  real,  they  seemingly  came — 

The  senses  deceive  us  till  our  Spirits  are  free. 

When  Jesus  had  finished  His  life  on  the  cross 
And  flesh  had  departed,  His  Spirit  remained ; 

In  appearance  not  real  His  friends  suffered  loss, 
Blessings  much  higher  they  afterwards  claimed. 


151 


THE  HOME  OF  OLD  TIME. 

"How  lonesome  thou  must  be,  0  Time, 

So  many  vacant  chairs! 
Old  Rome,  and  Tyre,  and  Babylon, 

With  no  one  sitting  there. 
And  seats  beyond  the  sight  of  man 

Thy  vision  doth  behold, 
Some  fallen  shaft,  or  rock,  or  hill, 

Or  stream,  reminds  thee  still — 
Treasures  of  memory  hold. 

Oh,  Time,  how  sad  thy  face  must  be ! 

Beholding  distant  spheres 
Where  naught  but  craters  hold 

Remains  to  tell  how  old: — 
Thine  eyes  must  fill  with  tears !" 

"My  eyes  are  turned  to  rising  sun 

And  toward  the  future  years; 
My  sadness  thus  beguiles 
And  fills  my  face  with  smiles, 
And  dries  up  all  my  tears." 


152 


THE  INVISIBLE  ARCHITECT. 

We  see  the  trees  which  He  has  reared 
With  limbs  like  arches  high — 

He  left  no  scaffolding  'neath  the  trees 
To  show  that  He  is  nigh. 


LOOKING  AT  A  FACE. 

What  is  thy  vision  who  can  divine? 

A  rift  in  Heaven  seen  from  thy  face? 
An  image  of  God  I  see  in  thine, 

In  each  glance  an  unseen  world  I  trace. 

Fairer  looms  Heaven  seen  in  thine  eyes 
Richer  the  treasures  that  world  doth  hold, 

The  turn  of  thy  face  reveals  new  skies 
What  then  the  vision  thine  eyes  behold. 

As  tranquil  lake  reflects  the  sky  above 
Thy  face  mirrors  purity  and  grace, 

My  self  I  see  not  but  God  of  love — 
A  Heaven  of  peace  viewed  in  thy  face. 

A  glimpse  of  the  unseen  hast  thou  caught? 

Which  mortals  long  for  but  can  not  view  ? 
A  face  so  calm  so  tranquil  and  serene 

Foretells  the  passions  purified,  made  new. 
153 


FROM  OMAHA  TO  GOLDEN  GATE. 

Across  the  plains  we  pass  at  night, 
Like  dart  from  out  a  quiver; 

In  morn  the  mountains  blush  in  sight, 
Their  forms  so  white  we  shiver. 

We  Denver  pass  as  folks  awake, 
All  night  they'd  been  asleeping ; 

We're  headed  for  the  Golden  Gate, 
The  land  that  all  are  seeking. 

By  Castle  Rock,  and  Noah's  Ark, 

An  elephant  so  stony, 
On  up  the  mountain  slopes  we  pass, 

Where  climbed  the  Indian  pony. 

Fields,  too,  were  climbing  up  the  hills 
Pushed  by  the  White  Man's  tilling, 

The  milk  from  cows  was  turned  to  coin, 
His  bulging  pockets  filling. 

At  Palmer  Lake  we  summit  reach, 
Where  boats  on  lake  are  gliding, 

And  many  homes  around  the  lake 
Hold  tourists  there  abiding. 

The  Springs  we  reach  near  Manitou 
Where  healing  waters  flowing 

Hard  by  the  Garden  of  The  Gods, 
Whose  colored  walls  are  showing. 
154 


From  home  of  parks  we  speed  round  base, 
Round  famed  Pike's  Peak  so  lofty; 

Then  up  the  Arkansaw  we  glide 
'Long  waters  flowing  softly. 

This  valley  forty  years  ago 
Gleamed  in  the  sun  so  brazen, 

Like  Eden  now  with  fruitful  bowers, 
The  change  has  been  amazing. 

And  at  the  window  of  our  cars 

Came  forms  with  fruit  so  golden — 

We  change  our  coins  for  fruit  so  rare 
Which  Eve-like  hands  are  holden. 

Beyond  us  towers  the  God-built  Gate, 

Thru  it  we  soon  are  rolling ; 
It  seems  the  rocks  meet  o'er  our  heads 

While  walls  in  waves  are  folding. 

More  crooked  than  the  Serpent  old 

That  thru  it  entered  Eden, 
Our  train  for  miles  and  miles  sped  on, 

These  fruit  bowers  leaven. 

A  coil  of  sky  above  our  heads, 

A  hissing  stream  below  us, 
We  hasten  from  these  frowning  walls, 

And  feel  that  God  is  o'er  us. 

We  soon  are  climbing  toward  the  top, 

The  backbone  of  Old  Rocky, 
But  Midnight  Hour  is  climbing,  too, 

Each  rode  by  rival  jockey. 
155 


We  wish  to  mail  some  letters  home, 

But  night  is  dark  and  blocky, 
And  when  our  train  the  summit  reached, 

The  darkness  hides  Old  Rocky. 

Just  now  the  headlight  turns  our  way, 

A  cone  of  light  revealing 
The  feathery  snowflakes  from  the  skies 

Their  course  toward  earth  are  feeling. 

'Twas  worth  a  trip  'cross  Continent 
The  sight  on  which  we're  gazing ; 

A  moment  more  and  all  is  dark, 
The  change  is  most  amazing. 

Next  morn  when  light  o'ertook  our  train, 
Cross  desert  sands  we're  speeding, 

'Twas  cross  these  sands  the  Mormons  walked 
And  followed  Brigham  leading. 

'Long  dreary  wastes  where  nothing  grew, 

And  far  from  brackish  water, 
They  pull  their  carts  for  weary  months 

And  after  Brigham  totter. 

From  land  of  plenty  they  had  fled, 

By  persecution  driven, 
They  sought  a  shelter  far  away — 

They  dreamed  it  here  was  given. 

They  had  no  cloud  to  guide  by  day, 

At  night  no  fiery  pillar, 
They  had  no  manna  by  the  way, 

Had  need  of  Indian  killer. 
156 


Thru  Castle  Gate  he  led  his  hosts, 

Their  hands  and  feet  all  bleeden ; 
They've  changed  the  barren  waste  within 

To  very  bower  of  Eden. 

The  Great  Salt  Lake  no  outlet  has, 

Is  like  Dead  Sea  of  olden, 
And  in  it  drops  their  Galilee 

Like  Jordan  waves  a-rolling.. 

Our  train  passed  Gate  in  afternoon, 

We  valley  reached  in  even, 
We  saw  the  sun  across  the  lake, 

The  vale  a  modern  Eden. 

Our  train  sped  'long  this  crystal  lake, 

And  down  this  golden  river, 
At  dusk  we  reach  abode  of  Saints, 

Their  lights  are  all  a-quiver. 

Here  as  of  old  a  temple  rose 

To  light  the  world  benighted; 
Here  Gentiles  flocked  to  view  the  land, 

Remained  were  so  delighted. 

They  drove  no  people  from  this  land 
O'er  slaughtered  children  bleeding; 

A  barren  waste  they  fertile  made 
Where  multitudes  are  feeding. 

Thru  shades  of  night  'neath  frowning  mounts 

We  speed  o'er  Lake  so  briny, 
As  strange  as  Israel  thru  Red  Sea 

With  host  and  babies  tiny. 
157 


When  morning  light  again  we  see, 

We're  over  deserts  rolling, 
No  cattle  roam  or  coyotes  prowl, 

We  see  no  Red  Men  strolling. 

The  Golden  State  we  reach  ere  eve, 
O'er  lofty  mountains  climbing, 

We  leave  the  snow-sheds  far  behind, 
Down  verdant  slopes  are  winding. 

The  sun  sank  down  thru  Golden  Gate 
Long  ere  we  reach  the  Ocean, 

We  breath  the  scent  of  fruit  and  flowers 
And  hear  the  new  commotion. 


FLESH  THE  SERVANT  OF  MIND. 

Man's  mind  can  say  to  flesh  do  this 

And  quick  will  flesh  obey; 
The  flesh  is  servant  then  of  mind 

And  has  no  say  or  pay. 

If  flesh  obeys  the  unseen  mind 

Much  more  God  works  unseen ; 
All  matter  moves  as  He  designs 

His  wisdom  thus  is  seen. 

He  planned  the  earth  for  home  of  man 

And  gave  to  world  her  laws, 
Thru  these  He  works  His  wonderous  plans 

For  ages  without  pause. 
158 


TWINKLE  LITTLE  STAR. 

I  know  you  twinkle,  little  star, 
But  you  keep  away  so  far ; 

Aren't  you  ever  coming  nigh 
So  I  can  see  your  other  eye. 

Do  you  wait  till  sun  is  set 

So  the  grass  my  feet  will  wet  ? 

Don't  you  like  the  sun  so  bright 
Why  you  wait  to  wink  at  night? 

Now  I  never  see  your  face, 
Hiding  there  in  darkest  place ; 

How  I  wish  you'd  come  some  day 
Just  to  see  us  children  play. 

Come  and  take  us  up  some  night 
When  the  milky  way  is  bright, — 

For  they  never  milk  in  day 
All  who  live  on  milky  way. 

If  they'd  change  their  milking  time, 
Sure  'twould  suit  us  all  so  fine, 

We  could  see  the  milky  way 
Every  time  we  come  to  play. 


* 


159 


WHO  TOLD  YOU? 

Who  told  you  god  was  near  ? 

Who  told  you  God  could  hear  ? 

It  was  His  voice  deep  in  your  heart, 

It  struck  like  lightening,  pierced  like  dart! 

Who  spoke  to  you  at  night  ? 

No  mortal  there  in  sight ! 

Who  told  you  things  that  no  one  knew, 
That  secret  long  twixt  God  and  you? 

You'd  hide  them  in  your  heart — 

But  now  they  make  you  start ! 

For  well  you  know  God's  eye  can  see, 
Each  way  you  look  but  can  not  flee. 


WHAT  IS  LIFE? 

What  is  our  life?    It  is  a  flight 

Across  a  fleeting  year, 
By  which  we  gain  some  new  delight 

And  give  up  something  dear. 

How  strange  we  two  should  meet  right  here, 

This  day  each  other  know ; 
Where  have  we  been  these  endless,  years, 

And  where  in  future  go? 
160 


THE  DEUTSCHLAND. 

From  shores  of  Spain  across  the  main 

Columbus  thought  to  sail, 
He  found  an  isle  and  stayed  awhile, 

To  reach  main  land  did  fail. 

But  Koenig  like  gopher  digged — 

Steered  straight  for  New  World's  shore, 

Thru  depths  of  deep  where  thousands  sleep 
He  came  up  at  our  door. 

Up  in  the  light  were  ships  to  fight, 
He  'neath  their  bottoms  ploughed, 

No  stars  to  guide  for  he  must  hide, 
He  fled  each  storm  or  cloud. 

His  compass  told  the  north  of  old, 

And  once  he  peaked  at  sun 
To  see  his  place  in  ocean's  waste, 

And  find  his  distance  run. 

Like  bird  in  air  on  wings  a  pair 

Oft  watches  for  her  prey, 
So  men  in  planes  above  the  main 

Watched  long  above  the  way. 

It  was  their  hope  the  periscope 

Would  show  above  the  wave, 
And  then  a  shot  right  at  the  spot 

Would  fix  this  hero  brave. 
161 


He  brought  us  dyes  all  which  we  prize 

Safe  thru  the  briny  deep ; 
What  we  had  need  he  brought  with  speed 

Past  where  the  dead  long  sleep. 

The  most  to  dread  were  ships  on  bed, 
Long  sunk  beneath  the  wave — 

They  are  not  mapped,  in  mystery  wrapped, 
They  sank  where  none  might  save. 

When  all  was  night  within  was  bright 

To  cheer  them  on  their  way ; 
The  sun  might  shine  upon  the  brine, 

To  them  no  light  of  day. 


WHY  HEAVEN'S  REST. 

Mothers  were  scarce  in  Adam's  day, 
So  he  was  made  from  ground ; 

There  was  a  shortage  then  on  wives — 
In  place,  a  rib  was  found. 

The  angels  never  wed  we're  told, 

That  may  be  for  the  best ; 
They  have  no  bonnets  there  to  buy — 

No  wonder  Heaven's  a  rest. 

162 


DON'T  BLAME  ME. 

My  mouth  is  hungry,  I  must  feed ! 

My  back  is  cold  and  bare ! 
And  I  am  selfish  'cause  I  need 

And  none  who  for  me  care. 

I  some  things  crave  that  others  have, 

Because  I  need  them,  too ; 
If  they  would  share  me  only  half 

I'd  have  enough  to  do. 

There's  land  a  plenty  for  us  all, 

If  each  had  equal  share ; 
But  some  have  got  no  land  at  all, 

The  man  with  much  don't  care. 

They  say  I'm  selfish  'cause  I  need 
The  things  that  others  have ; 

The  man  with  much  is  man  of  greed, 
Is  he  not  equal  bad? 

I'm  selfish,  sure,  my  make  up's  bad, 
Don't  lay  the  blame  on  me; 

Did  I  not  need  what  others  had 
I  would  not  selfish  be. 


163 


UNSEEN  FORGES. 

The  acorn  falling  from  the  tree, 
The  apple  dropping  down, 

Reveals  to  man  a  hidden  law 
Wide  as  the  earth  around. 

When  man  at  will  lifts  up  his  hand 
In  spite  of  Nature's  law, 

Is  plainly  shown  a  higher  power 
Than  Nature  ever  saw. 

The  eagle  mounting  up  the  sky 

Some  pinnacle  to  find 
Would  open  gravitation's  eye 

To  higher  law  of  mind. 

The  willingness  of  feet  and  hands 
To  do  their  master's  will 

Is  finger-board  to  higher  lands — 
'Tis  God  all  Nature  fills. 


•     RECOLLECTION. 

Our  recollections  of  this  life 

Are  records  on  the  brain, 
When  this  is  wrecked  our  memory  fails, 

Each  child  new  records  gain. 
164 


TWO  YEARS  IN  THE  FIGHT. 

What  does  he  look  like?  How  does  he  feel? 

Two  years  of  murder  in  his  heart! 
Two  years  of  hate  and  bloody  steel, 

With  dreams  all  filled  with  Devil's  art ! 

What  does  he  look  like?  What  does  he  know 
Save  groans  and  moans  of  dying  men! 

His  features  must  these  terrors  show — 
Two  years  of  crouching  in  a  den. 

What  does  he  look  like?  What  does  he  care? 

Mid  scenes  of  blood  and  cries  of  pain ! 
At  ghastly  sights  he  learns  to  stare 

And  crave  to  see  it  o'er  again. 

What  does  he  look  like  ?  What  does  he  hope  ? 

Can  memory  change  one  bloody  spot! 
The  sky  of  Heaven  tho  vast  in  scope 

Will  mirror  scenes  he  ne'er  forgot. 

His  seed  will  grow  the  beastly  stain, 

And  generations  yet  unborn 
Will  carry  hatred  in  each  vein 

And  men  of  neighboring  nations  scorn. 


165 


DESIGN  IN  MAN'S  FRAME. 

Who  saw  the  frame  of  man  complete 
Before  man  stood  upon  his  feet? 
There  is  an  architect  Divine 
First  saw  each  part,  each  curve,  each  line. 

Who  showed  the  eye  the  path  to  light 
Before  that  orb  had  form  or  sight? 
An  inner  eye  not  made  of  clay 
First  saw  the  light  and  led  the  way. 

Who  taught  the  bone  the  flesh  to  brace, 
Each  joint  in  limb  find  proper  place? 
Who  taught  the  sinews  where  to  cling, 
That  to  each  limb  'twould  freedom  bring? 

Who  taught  each  organ  how  to  work, 
And  planned  it  so  no  one  might  shirk? 
Who  gave  the  heart  its  constant  beat, 
And  planned  the  air  and  lungs  to  meet  ? 

Who  taught  the  feet  the  way  to  walk, 
The  tongue  its  skill  to  sing  and  talk, 
The  hands  with  cunning  shape  complete, 
Each  want  of  every  part  to  meet  ? 

Who  hid  the  vital  organs  far 
Where  ribs  and  bones  would  danger  bar, 
The  brain  inclosed  in  rounded  case, 
The  eyes  to  guard  this  sacred  place? 
166 


The  ears  each  side  to  sound  alarm 
And  guard  this  organ  from  all  harm; 
The  lips  with  taste  to  choose  the  food, 
The  nose  with  scent  fresh  air  to  choose  ? 

The  senses  five  are  near  the  brain, 
That  master  mind  may  hold  the  rein — 
For  news  of  harm  to  any  part 
To  brain  is  sent  as  quick  as  dart. 

The  one  who  works  must  know  his  art 
And  see  completion  from  the  start; 
The  highest  type  of  man  today 
God's  guiding  mind  saw  far  away. 

He  made  in  eye  a  lens  complete, 
Transfixing  world  in  eyes'  retreat ; 
In  choicest  frame  He  moulds  the  clay — 
He  knew  each  science  taught  today. 


ENDLESS  CHAIN. 

If  endless  chain  did  not  return 

Our  bodies  to  the  earth, 
There  would  in  time  no  earth  remain 

To  give  new  bodies  birth. 

Is  spirit  birth  an  endless  drain 

On  Heaven's  vast  supply? 
Would  shortage  of  men's  souls  occur 

If  none  of  us  should  die  ? 
167 


THE  HIGH-HEELED  SHOES. 

A  howling  woe  is  drink  I  know, 

But  there  are  others,  too; 
The  crumpled  toes,  and  corns  that  goes 

Each  way  on  high-heeled  shoes. 

The  women  yell  and  give  us — well — 

And  drive  us  off  to  drink ; 
They  buy  corn  salve — spend  all  we  have — 

And  never  stop  to  think. 

They  set  the  pace,  we  ruin  face, 

'Tis  money  all  the  while ; 
And  while  we  earn,  they  money  burn 

In  chasing  some  fool  style. 

The  fashions  drain  what  e'er  we  gain, 

It  is  no  use  to  try ; 
'Tis  only  woe  when  home  we  go — 

That's  why  we  drink  old  rye. 

There  are  no  woes  like  horny  toes, 
That  go  with  high-heeled  shoes; 

They  give  us  woes  no  mortal  knows — 
That's  why  we  have  the  blues. 


168 


THE  INDIANS  OF  COLUMBUS'  DAY  HAD  NO 
DOMESTIC  ANIMALS. 

He  had  no  dog,  or  horse,  or  cow, 
To  milk  or  ride  or  bark  "bow-wow" ; 
He  had  one  slave,  she  was  his  squaw, 
Who  did  his  work,  his  word  was  law. 

Among  the  trees  in  light  and  shade 
He  skulked  in  colors  nature  made; 

In  hand  he  held  the  twanging  bow 

To  lay  his  prey  or  victim  low. 

In  stealth  he  hides  behind  a  tree, 
Watching  the  deer  he  chance  to  see ; 
He  aims  with  fiendish  cunning  care, 
He  knows  the  game  is  fleet  as  air. 

The  arrow  hits  a  vital  place, 
The  deer  yet  leads  him  quite  a  chase ; 
It  falters  now  and  strikes  the  ground — 
He  calls  his  squaw  with  piercing  sound. 

In  haste  she  packs  it  to  the  tent, 
With  stone  for  knife  the  flesh  is  rent; 
Above  her  head  on  limb  of  oak 
She  hangs  each  piece  then  starts  the  smoke. 

Crouched  in  the  tent  around  the  flame, 
All  watch  the  squaw  half  broil  the  game ; 
169 


Soon  with  their  teeth  they  tear  the  meat, 
Then  curl  in  circle  where  they  eat. 

The  scent  of  half -tanned  skins  and  smoke 
Is  very  old  to  these  Indian  folk ; 

Soundly  they  sleep  like  beasts  in  den, 
Contented  were  and  happy  then. 

They  only  rise  when  hunger  calls, 
No  horses  neigh  or  cattle  bawls, 
No  clarion  call  or  chicken  cackle, 
They  hear  the  panther  and  wild  jackal. 

She  never  heard  of  school  or  book, 
She  oft  has  heard  the  rippling  brook, 
And  watched  the  owl  in  tree-top  tall, 
And  nightly  heard  whippoorwill  call. 


DRIFTING. 

The  grain  of  sand  upon  the  beach 

Had  just  as  much  to  say 
About  the  journey  it  has  made 

As  I  about  my  way. 

The  ocean  sand  is  made  of  grains, 

Time  of  moments  past; 
Where  did  I  drift  from  shores  of  life, 

Where  will  I  land  at  last. 

Each  soul  from  God  drifts  once  to  earth, 

And  then  is  carried  on ; 
There  is  no  voice  from  out  the  deep 

That  answers  back  when  gone. 
170 


BROTHERHOOD  OF  MAN. 

Sweet  voice  of  Christ  taught  higher  truths 

Than  any  world  had  heard, 
It  woke  earth's  dreamers  from  their  sleep, 

And  all  the  masses  stirred. 

What  were  those  truths  the  millions  woke 

And  set  new  blood  to  flow? 
It  was  the  brotherhood  of  man 

That  all  the  world  must  know. 

These  truths  were  not  for  any  race, 

For  all  the  men  of  earth; 
To  live  this  brother  life  with  Christ 

Required  the  Spirit  birth. 

The  temple  walls  so  sacred  high 
Where  only  priests  had  trod, 

Were  leveled  low  to  common  earth 
That  man  might  meet  his  God. 

Old  lines  and  creeds  were  broken  down 

By  onward  flood  of  love, 
No  walls  could  hold  the  kingdom  come 

Sent  down  from  Heaven  above. 

Revenge  and  wrath  must  have  no  place, 

Instead  we  must  forgive, 
When  Father's  kingdom  comes  to  earth 

We  must  His  spirit  live. 
171 


If  one  should  smite  you  on  the  cheek, 

To  him  the  other  turn, 
With  good  for  evil  in  return 

Will  cause  his  cheek  to  burn. 

Christ  never  taught  of  little  things, 
His  truths  were  broad  as  man, 

The  law  of  love  which  he  proclaimed 
Would  every  chasm  span. 

His  thoughts  were  high,  His  heart  was  love, 

He  never  dropped  to  creeds; 
It  was  the  heart  He  sought  to  change 

And  banish  selfish  deeds. 

Sweet  song  of  peace  to  all  the  earth 

Across  the  heavens  ran, 
'Twas  not  for  any  age  or  race, 

In  broadest  sense  for  man. 

Sweet  voice  once  heard  o'er  Galilee, 

Oh,  speak  to  hearts  of  men, 
The  angry  billows  of  the  deep 

Once  heard,  will  hear  again. 


172 


ENLIGHTENING  THE  EVANGELIST. 

In  the  gutter  way  down  your  sinners  drag  on, 
Paint  them  as  vile  as  language  can  tell, 

Open  abyss  that  near  them  may  yawn, 

Perfume  them  with  sulphur  and  singe  them  as 
well. 

When  tottering  on  brink  just  over  the  flame, 

Open  the  door  of  mercy  in  store ; 
Tell  them  that  One  in  their  place  has  been  slain, 

Have  them  believe  it  and  jump  on  the  floor. 

To  make  your  game  win,  take  them  all  in, 
Get  them  to  pay  for  the  way  they're  fooled, 

What  matters  it  then  if  they  fall  back  in  sin, 
The  excitement  is  good  till  their  ardor  is  cooled. 


AN  INVISIBLE  HAND. 

We  stand  by  cradle  of  the  deep 
And  hear  the  winds  that  cry ; 

But  ne'er  can  see  the  hand  that  rocks 
The  wave  that  rushes  by. 

173 


THE  UNSEEN  HAND. 

I  placed  a  straw  across  the  way 

To  help  the  toiling  ant; 
It  did  not  see  my  hand  that  day — 

Its  vision  was  too  scant. 

It  thought  the  straw  placed  there  by  chance 

A  bridge — it  was,  of  course; 
It  was  not  far  enough  advanced 

To  think  of  higher  force. 

Above  us  being  may  abide, 

Much  more  advanced  than  we; 
Unseen  by  flesh  from  us  they  hide — 

We  can  not  spirit  see. 

The  fertile  fields  that  God  has  spread, 
The  sunshine  and  the  showers — 

We  can  not  see  where  He  doth  tread, 
Unseen  are  all  His  powers. 

More  blind  than  ant  or  even  bat, 

Man  stumbles  on  his  way, 
He  does  not  see  what  God  is  at 

Who  helps  him  every  day. 


174 


THE  LIPS  BENEATH  THE  ROSE. 

Thy  rosy  lips  have  now  decayed 
And  turned  to  mouldering  dust, 

But  memory  thru  them  speaks  to  me 
A  voice  that's  never  hushed. 

The  rose  that  blooms  above  thy  grave 

Returns  a  sweet  perfume, 
Seems  wafted  from  the  other  shore 

From  tree  of  life  in  bloom. 

The  mouldered  dust  has  sweetness  grown, 

My  faded  hopes  now  bloom, 
And  brighter  now  art  thou  I  love 

As  seen  beyond  the  tomb. 

I  love  thee,  rose,  thou  bade  me  trust, 

And  bade  my  hopes  revive, 
By  gathering  sweetness  from  the  dust 

Thou  taught  me  to  be  wise. 


SILENT  POWERS. 

The  waterfall  that  roars  so  loud, 
And  tells  of  nature's  power, 

Is  borne  in  silence  back  to  cloud 
And  falls  in  dew  and  showers. 
175 


The  thunderbolt  that  shakes  the  earth 

In  silence  gains  its  power; 
The  hand  that  guides  the  worlds  since  birth 

May  shake  the  world  some  hour. 

There  is  a  mind  behind  the  scene — 

All  nature  shows  design; 
We  may  not  see  behind  the  screen 

Unless  X-rayed  by  mind. 


THE  LOST  CUPIDS 

Ten  thousand  thousands  rays  of  light 
From  sun  dart  out  thru  space, 

One  in  ten  thousand  reach  our  earth, 
The  rest  are  lost  in  space. 

A  myriad  Cupids  wing  the  air, 
One  in  ten  thousand  born, 

The  many  thousands  wander  out 
And  left  to  roam  forlorn. 

Unseen  they  peek  in  window  panes 

And  view  a  circle  fair, 
And  long  for  love's  companionship, 

To  be  of  friendship  heir. 
176 


HOW  A  SWARM  OF  BEES  WENT  TO  SCHOOL 

Mary  had  a  little  lamb 

But  that  was  long  ago; 
Let  me  tell  you  something  new, 

Perhaps  you'd  like  to  know. 

'Twas  a  swarm  of  honey  bees 
That  came  to  school  one  day; 

They  entered  through  the  siding 
And  settled  there  to  stay. 

Within  the  school  house  cosy 

Sat  children  by  the  score; 
Concealed  beneath  the  siding 

Were  million  bees  or  more. 

While  children  stored  up  knowledge 

Within  their  little  brains, 
The  honey  bees  stored  sweetness 

With  greatest  care  and  pains. 

One  gathered  knowledge  daily 
And  stored  it  in  their  minds; 

The  other  gathered  sweetness 
Which  only  bees  can  find. 

The  children  met  one  morning 

Before  the  teacher  came, 
To  drive  the  bees  from  siding, 

A  little  fun  their  aim. 
177 


Each  armed  with  stick  for  battle, 
Attacked  them  in  their  home; 

But  bees  are  brave  as  any, 
Will  fight  for  honeycomb. 

One  round  of  ammunition 
Was  all  the  boys  possessed ; 

And  when  they  fired  it  at  them 
They  each  would  run  his  best. 

No  boy  was  slow  in  starting, 
But  bees  were  quick  of  wing, 

And  every  boy  that  morning 
Got  one  to  twenty  stings. 

Some  run  around  the  school  house, 
And  some  fled  through  the  door ; 

But  everywhere  the  boys  went 
The  bees  were  there  before. 

When  teacher  came  that  morning, 
The  bees  turned  teacher  out; 

And  all  the  children  crying, 
Not  one  would  linger  'bout. 

Some  had  a  bump  on  shoulder, 
And  some  a  lump  on  face ; 

Some  had  a  swollen  eyelid, 
No  noses  seemed  in  place. 

All  learned  expensive  lesson 

From  busy  honey  bee ; 
'Tis  best  to  mind  your  business 

And  not  a  meddler  be. 
178 


THE  DEVIL  LOSES  HIS  JOB. 

Not  up  to  date  in  ways  of  hate 

Hell's  altogether  slow, 
So  Devil's  out  to  look  about 

And  learn  what  Moderns  know. 

That's  why  he  sat  on  Kaiser's  mat, 

And  grumbled  at  the  cold, 
"It  was  my  lot  to  keep  things  hot, 

I've  lost  my  job  I'm  told. 

I  was  not  skilled  in  ways  he  killed 

So  Kaiser  kicked  me  out, 
I  could  not  run  a  gatling  gun, 

So  Czar  won't  have  me  'bout." 

So  Devil  spoke  as  cleared  the  smoke, 

Then  glanced  awhile  about 
And  dropped  his  tail,  and  struck  the  trail 

For  regions  round  about. 

He  watched  the  fumes  make  living  tombs 

With  poison  in  its  stench, 
If  some  survive  they  pin  them  live 

And  leave  them  in  the  trench. 

He  saw  them  aim  their  fluid  flame 
And  burn  them  as  they  run, 

And  as  they  fall  it  burns  them  all, 
The  Devil's  Hell  outdone. 
179 


He  was  amazed  then,  long  he  gazed, 
Would  now  from  Christians  learn 

If  up  to  date  in  works  of  hate, 
They  might  not  Devil  spurn. 

Down  went  his  tail,  his  courage  failed, 

He  felt  he  was  too  slow, 
In  deadly  aim  and  numbers  slain 

Their  pace  he  could  not  go. 

He  watched  them  fly  and  arm  the  sky, 

And  whiz  in  face  of  God ; 
The  fiends  would  slay  the  babe  at  play 

While  on  its  mother's  sod. 

The  submarine  from  depths  unseen 
Would  blow  the  ship  on  wave, 

Then  laugh  and  wink  as  thousands  sink, 
Because  there's  none  to  save. 

The  Devil  blushed  in  silence  hushed 

For  he  had  seen  enough ; 
And  then  he  spoke,  "My  imps  may  hope 

Hell  has  some  better  stuff. 

I'll  tell  them  Hell's  a  peaceful  dell 

Compared  to  world  outside ; 
Then  they  will  pray  that  they  may  stay, 

Lest  Christians  get  their  hide." 


180 


THE  BARREN  COAST. 

The  sinking  sun  on  barren  coast 

No  trace  of  glory  leaves, 
No  cloud  reflects  departing  rays 

E'en  twilight  quickly  flees. 

No  snow-capped  peaks  lift  up  their  heads 

To  revel  in  his  light, 
Reminding  hills  and  valleys  round 

Of  sun  that  shines  so  bright. 

So  sinks  a  towering  intellect 

Among  the  sordid  herd, 
A  barren  waste  is  all  there's  left, 

No  mind  his  teachings  stirred. 

No  lofty  minds  have  caught  his  thoughts, 

To  teach  them  when  he's  gone ; 
They're  buried  with  him  in  the  ground, 

Every  one — every  one. 

Not  so  with  Christ :  departing  rays 

Lent  light  to  Gallilee 
And  all  the  peaks,  from  Sinai's  top 

To  Mount  of  Calvary. 

The  clouds  of  gloom  that  hung  o'er  earth, 

Reflected  brightest  beams ; 
And  e'en  the  tears  that  showered  from  cross, 

With  rainbow's  radiance  gleams. 
181 


The  Prophets  old,  and  Tostles  new 
Centered  their  light  on  Him; 

Behind  the  cross  He  sank  to  rest, 
The  cross  will  never  dim. 

'Tis  not  His  light  in  which  we  live, 

It  is  reflected  rays 
From  head  of  Paul,  and  breast  of  John, 

And  Saints  of  later  days. 

It  is  the  humble  Christian  here 
Whose  life  shows  signs  of  love, 

That  most  reflects  the  Master's  light, 
And  points  to  One  above. 

Tis  in  the  Mother's  lullaby 

Is  heard  His  gentle  voice ; 
And  in  the  kindly  spoken  words 

That  make  sad  hearts  rejoice. 

The  choirs  may  sing  their  anthem  songs, 

The  organ  peal  so  loud ; 
But  they  don't  prove  the  Christ  is  risen 

From  His  cold  burial  shroud. 

The  costly  spires  and  gilded  domes 
May  point  the  eye  toward  sky, 

But  they  don't  tell  the  broken  heart 
The  helping  Christ  is  nigh. 


EMPTY  PROFESSION. 

Into  a  room  with  faucets  ranged 

I  step  to  take  a  bath, 
On  one  is  "HOT,"  on  other  "COLD," 

Same  warmth  both  waters  hath. 

Into  this  peopled  world  I  go, 
Some  bear  the  Christian  name, 

But  all,  like  water,  now  are  cold, 
They  lack  the  Christian  flame. 

Tis  true,  some  times  the  fire  is  lit, 

Then  water  boils  up  hot, 
And  steams  all  out  and  leaks  from  pipe, 

And  sizzes  awful  lot. 

And  when  the  world  has  urgent  need 

And  comes  to  them  for  aid, 
You  find  their  hearts  are  full  of  greed, 

'Twas  empty  fuss  they  made. 


AN  INVISIBLE  LADDER. 

We  see  the  stars  above  the  earth 
Set  in  the  Heavenly  dome ; 

But  ne'er  can  see  the  ladder  rounds 
On  which  we  climb  back  home. 

183 


POETS. 

Some  poets  like  the  butterfly 
That  flutters  round  in  sight, 

Their  gorgeous  colors  please  the  eye, 
They  find  no  place  to  light. 

They  flit  around  above  your  head 
When  sun  is  warm  and  bright, 

A  thousand  ways  by  fancy  lea, 
Then  vanish  from  your  sight. 

Some  poets  have  an  eagle  eye — 

They  see  a  truth  afar ; 
On  buoyant  wings  they  mount  on  high 

To  pluck  a  brilliant  star.. 

You  watch  them  in  their  lofty  flight, 
They  have  some  point  in  view; 

They  perch  on  pinnacle  of  height 
With  star  plucked  bright  and  new. 


DEPARTING  DAY. 

The  sun  sinks  in  the  distant  sky 

As  beams  fade  soft  away, 
Our  thoughts  so  bright  sink  out  of  sight 

And  we  have  had  our  day. 

184 


PASS  ON. 

"You  had  your  day,  ain't  that  enough, 
Why  should  you  block  the  road  ? 

The  way  has  been  a  little  rough, 
Sometimes  you  had  a  load. 

"You  had  your  day,  come  now  be  kind, 
You've  walked  the  path  of  life ; 

Give  place  for  one  who  walks  behind — 
He's  eager  for  the  strife. 

"You  had  your  day,  your  share  of  joy, 
Your  share  of  sadness,  too ; 

There  is  no  gold  without  alloy — 
To  him  this  all  is  new. 

"Give  place  for  one  who  does  not  know 
The  ups  and  downs  of  life, 

Then  he  will  have  a  chance  to  show 
His  courage  in  the  strife." 


ALL  DAYS  EQUAL  WORTH. 

With  God  all  days  have  equal  worth, 

With  man  it  is  not  so: 
The  reason  is  that  man  is  fooled, 

While  God  doth  all  things  known. 
185 


A  counterfeit  seems  just  as  good, 
What  difference  does  it  make? 

Sb  owner  thinks  it  genuine, 
And  does  not  know  the  fake. 

The  Advent  thinks  he  has  a  prize 
And  keeps  the  Seventh  Day; 

Another  day  some  Christians  keep 
And  throw  the  Seventh  'way. 

They  all  are  fooled,  each  day  is  good. 

If  we  the  truth  did  know, 
For  God  is  with  us  every  day, 

Righ  living  makes  it  so. 


BRIGHT  EYES. 

There  was  a  bird  with  plumage  bright, 

And  lovely  graceful  form — 
Why  did  you  fly  so  far  away? 
We  miss  you  night  and  morn. 

Your  eyes  were  bright  and  flashed  the  light 
Seemed  lent  them  from  the  stars ; 

Your  presence  near  oft  gave  us  cheer — 
We  miss  them  now  you're  far. 

Fly  back,  dear  bird,  with  plumage  bright, 

Your  presence  bringeth  cheer; 
Your  eyes  so  bright  would  us  delight 

By  day  and  night  when  near. 
186 


WHO? 

Doctors  of  Divinity  traveling  in  cars, 

All  sleepers  and  diners  attached, 
Going  to  promulgate  their  doctrines  afar; 

Tis  little  attention  they  'tract. 

Now  Jesus  I  see  on  some  dusty  by-way, 
Clouds  of  dust  because  of  the  throng ; 

Far  have  they  come,  attention  they  pay 

To  the  words  like  manna  that  fell  from  His 
tongue. 

The  doctors  of  learning  a  ripple  can't  make 
On  the  surface  of  every  day  thought ; 

But  Jesus,  unlettered,  made  Pharisees  quake, 
On  the  world  great  changes  He  wrought. 


A  STAR  IN  SKY  FOR  ME. 

God  set  a  star  in  sky  for  me 
That  I  might  know  He's  there ; 

And  when  I  see  it  shine  so  free, 
I  raise  my  heart  in  prayer. 

I  never  pass  a  single  night, 

But  what  I  gaze  in  sky; 
If  guiding  star  for  me  shines  bright 

I  feel  that  God  is  nigh. 

187 


Tis  need  I  go  to  Him  in  prayer, 
And  nightly  see  my  star, 

That  I  may  know  that  God  is  there, 
For  me  left  gates  ajar. 

When  earthly  things  so  fleeting  are, 
And  time  is  on  the  wing, 

I'm  glad  to  look  to  worlds  afar 
Where  time  no  changes  bring. 


I  SEE  ALL  WORLDS. 

Remotest  time  and  distance  aid 

The  vision  of  my  eye, 
I  see  the  hamlet  at  my  feet, 

Most  distant  worlds  I  spy. 

One  God  unseen  they  all  adore, 

I  see  them  bend  the  head, 
In  every  age,  in  every  clime, 

They  hear  His  silent  tread. 

And  those  who  dwell  in  distant  worlds, 
And  those  who  dwell  on  earth, 

Are  all  one  family  in  His  sight — 
His  children  'round  one  hearth. 

What  difference  then  does  distance  make  ? 

He's  'round  about  them  all, 
Before  the  words  have  reached  the  lips 

He  hears  their  every  call. 
188 


MOTHER  LOOKING  AT  HER  BOY'S  PICTURE, 

Oh,  my  boy,  how  innocent, 

I  would  that  thou  wert  same  again ; 

But  time  has  changed  thee  much, 
I've  wept  for  thee  but  tears  are  vain. 

Had  death  then  taken  thee 

I'd  thought  it  cruel  fate  at  time, 
But  thou  wert  left  to  me, 

Thy  heart  no  longer  mine. 

My  sorrow  now  is  more  intense, 

Oh,  Heaven,  am  I  to  blame? 
I  prayed  that  thou  might  live 

And  thou  hast  brought  me  shame. 

Thou  wert  the  idol  of  my  heart, 

And  still  that  idol's  there: 
The  broken  fragments  cut  and  smart— 

The  worst,  he  does  not  care. 


A  COMPLETE  SACRIFICE. 

Their  sacrifice  to  be  complete 

Must  burn  in  altar  fire ; 
Such  sacrifice  Christ  did  not  meet 

Tho  much  the  priests'  desire. 
189 


His  part  in  sacrifice  was  made 

Inside  of  brain  of  Paul, 
In  prison  cells  the  plans  were  laid 

To  rear  salvation's  walls. 

On  this  foundation  church  is  built, — 

Christ  built  on  solid  stone; 
The  church  must  fall — foundation's  silt — 

Blood  can't  for  sin  atone. 

"Only  by  blood  are  sins  remit," 

Is  final  word  of  Paul; 
When  Christ  in  final  judgment  sits, 

Not  blood,  kind  acts  is  all. 


DOUBTING  THOMAS. 

Now  doubting  Thomas  he  is  called 
Because  he  sought  the  truth ; 

But  Christians  think  him  better  saint 
Who  does  not  ask  for  proof. 

And  why  is  faith  so  highly  praised  ? 

And  research  so  deplored? 
Is  it  because  fair  Canaan's  land 

May  never  be  explored  ? 

And  why  are  doctrines  most  absurd 
Held  true  by  trusting  minds? 

Must  they  believe  if  they'd  be  good, 
And  ever  go  it  blind  ? 

190 


WHAT  THE  PREACHER  SAID. 

The  preacher  said:  "No  manuscript  of  the 
Bible  now  known  to  be  in  existence  is  older  than 
the  4th  century.  The  Old  and  New  Testaments  are 
not  half  as  large  as  then — the  major  portion  hav 
ing  been  rejected.  The  Old  Testament  was  then 
in  Hebrew  and  contained  no  vowels.  These  have 
been  substituted.  So  when  we  read  the  Psalms  or 
the  Prophecies  of  Isaiah,  we  know  not  that  we  are 
reading  the  words  intended  by  the  writer.  Even 
the  Hebrew  name  for  God  is  not  known." 

"Why  did  the  preacher  tell  the  facts  ?" 

To  me  good  brother  said ; 
"  'Twill  give  the  skeptics  chance  to  doubt 

If  light  on  truth  is  shed." 

This  query  of  the  good  brother  suggested  to  me 
the  following  poem: 

WEAKEST  LINK. 

Men  hunt  for  weakest  link  to  find 

The  strength  of  any  chain; 
While  Christians  look  for  strongest  proofs 

Their  doctrines  to  maintain. 

The  man  who  would  investigate, 

And  search  for  weakest  link, 
Is  thought  ungodly  and  unwise, — 

One  foot  o'er  burning  brink. 
191 


Why  should  we  fear  a  link  will  break  ? 

Give  it  the  strongest  test ; 
If  truth  has  welded  every  link 

Our  anchored  ship  will  rest.  . 

Lift  up  your  chain  and  search  each  link- 

If  any  link  is  frail 
Your  anchor  then  will  never  hold, 

In  time  of  storm  will  fail. 


THE  SEEN  BORN  OF  THE  UNSEEN. 

In  whose  brain  first  fell  the  rain? 

Whose  mind  first  saw  the  dew  ? 
Who  rocked  the  deep  in  her  first  sleep 

In  oceans'  cradle  new? 

Whose  was  the  hand  that  placed  the  land 

On  earth's  foundation  deep? 
That  it  might  stand  a  home  for  man 

And  all  his  wants  might  meet. 

Whose  was  the  eye  conceived  the  sky 
And  wove  it  from  a  dream? 

First  saw  the  light  when  all  was  night 
And  brought  forth  every  beam? 

Where  was  the  mind  that  first  was  kind 
And  taught  man  how  to  love  ? 

Whose  was  the  heart  first  felt  the  dart 
That  shot  from  skies  above? 
192 


Who  made  the  brain  to  feel  the  pain 

Which  others  also  feel? 
That  man  might  know  each  other's  woe, 

Their  kinship  thus  reveal? 


SOULS  LAST  REFUGE. 

"Where  is  thy  refuge,  Oh,  my  soul, 
When  life's  long  voyage  is  o'er? 

In  heaven  thy  refuge,  tell  me,  soul?" 
'"Not  there,  I  seek  for  more." 

"Is  sky  above  so  blue  thy  home? 

Or  in  the  flowery  dell  ? 
Where  is  thy  home  when  life  is  o'er, 

Oh,  soul,  where  wilt  thou  dwell? 

In  far  off  land  beyond  the  sea  ? 

Or  in  some  world  on  high? 
Where  wilt  thou  dwell  when  life  is  o'er?" 

I  listen  for  reply. 

"Wilt  sunbeams  deck  thy  home,  oh,  soul, 
And  diamonds  'dorn  thy  neck? 

Will  Angels  be  thy  bosom  friends 
And  answer  every  beck? 

What  is  thy  hope,  oh,  soul,  I  pray, 
When  life  and  cares  are  o'er?" 

"My  greatest  hope  and  all  my  trust 
Is  God's  dear  love,  no  more." 
193 


APPROACH  OF  A  SHIP. 

We  see  a  ship  approach  on  crest, 
Draw  near  and  nearer  shore, — 

Some  freighted  soul  our  world  to  test 
Returned  this  way  once  more. 

As  on  the  wave  the  ship  departs, 
And  drops  from  sight  o'er  crest, — 

So  we  on  voyage  of  life  must  part 
With  all  we  love  the  best. 

Dimmer,  dimmer,  the  distance  seen, 
Till  headlands  fade  from  sight; 

Before  us  rise  the  living  green — 
A  world  that's  far  more  bright. 

So  memory  faint,  and  fainter,  holds 
The  past  that  once  we  knew; 

And  future  opens  and  unfolds 
Another  world  to  view. 

How  oft  the  ship  has  sailed  the  sea, 
How  oft  has  touched  the  shore, 

There  is  no  record  borne  to  earth, 
Tho  oft  has  sailed  before. 

A  pile  of  letters  long  we  keep 
With  memories  of  the  past, 

We  gather  them  into  a  pile 
And  burn  them  all  at  last. 
194 


If  memory  clung  to  everything 
And  could  not  part  from  past, 

Future  to  us  sad  joy  would  bring 
Because  of  shadows  cast. 


THE  STAR  OF  BETHLEHEM. 

"Peace  on  Earth,  Good  Will  to  Men," 

Came  floating  down  to  earth; 
World's  poets  long  had  sung  of  war, 

New  song  had  Heavenly  birth. 

The  stars  had  all  been  named  for  gods 

Who  fought  the  wars  of  men ; 
A  Star  of  Peace  arose  on  earth — 

The  Star  of  Bethlehem. 

Famed  kings  with  swords  had  conquests  made, 

The  earth  was  their  domain; 
The  Prince  of  Peace  without  a  sword 

O'er  all  the  world  would  reign. 

He  wore  no  crown  but  that  of  thorns, 

He  had  no  throne  but  cross; 
He  came  to  conquer  hate  with  love, 

And  melt  the  gold  from  dross.  . 


195 


TELL  ME  OF  SPRING. 

Go  to  the  man  who's  been  in  cell 

For  lo  these  many  years ; 
He's  coming  forth  to  meet  his  wife, 

There's  springtime  in  their  tears. 

Go  ask  the  season  bound  with  ice, 

For  months  so  dark  and  drear ; 
When  sun  comes  forth  with  warmth  and  light, 

And  brings  to  world  new  cheer. 

You  hear  the  ice  rake  in  the  stream, 

And  float  in  floods  away ; 
The  winter  bands  that  held  it  tight 

Have  broken  in  a  day. 

The  frozen  swamp  has  loosed  its  bands, 

The  rushes  sway  in  breeze ; 
The  bright  warm  sun  wakes  up  new  life — 

All  things  it  seems  to  please. 

The  croaking  frogs  that  never  chirped 

For  all  the  winter  long, — 
When  south  wind  blows  and  sky  is  warm, 

Have  turned  the  night  to  song. 

The  "dutchman-breeches"  spring  from  ground 

In  garments  fresh  and  new, 
And  "ladies'-slippers"  dressed  for  show 

O'er  night  appear  in  view. 
196 


The  buckeye  trees  come  forth  in  bloom 

And  hang  with  silky  down; 
The  hickory  blossoms  burst  their  cells 

And  show  their  glossy  gowns. 

The  sap  mounts  up  the  maple  tree 

With  juice  of  nectar  sweet; 
There's  not  a  thing  so  blind  or  dumb 

But  feels  a  change  complete. 

The  birds  that  left  for  southern  clime 
Now  winter  storms  have  flown 

The  swan,  the  goose,  on  lofty  wings, 
Seeped  north  o'er  fields  fresh  sown. 

If  nature  feels  what  prison  means 

Behind  the  winter  bars, 
Then  she  is  glad  when  springtime  comes 

And  leaves  his  gates  ajar. 

The  million  buds  sealed  up  for  months, 

On  thousand  dreary  trees, 
Burst  forth  from  cells  as  if  to  say 

"We  greet  the  sunny  breeze." 

All  tribes  of  birds  whose  songs  were  hushed 

By  storms  and  winter  clouds, 
Renew  their  songs  of  gladdest  strains 

In  music  clear  and  loud. 


197 


GOD'S  WAYS  THE  BEST. 

We're  apt  at  times  to  criticize 
And  say  God's  ways  are  hard ; 

We  little  know  of  what  we  speak, 
Else  we  our  words  would  guard. 

The  sorrows  we  behold  around 

In  many  parts  of  land, 
Begets  a  kindness  in  our  hearts, 

And  calls  for  helping  hand. 

Our  sickness  makes  us  prize  our  health, 
And  toil  makes  rest  so  sweet, 

And  sorrow  makes  us  comfort  seek, 
And  prize  each  friend  we  meet. 

Our  wants  but  call  us  on  to  work 

For  that  we  greatly  need ; 
It  gives  to  work  a  greater  zest, 

And  calls  for  greater  speed. 

Our  hunger  makes  us  prize  our  food, 

And  relish  what  we  eat ; 
The  greater  is  our  appetite, 

The  greater  is  the  treat. 

Tis  darkness  makes  the  day  seem  bright, 
And  cold  makes  warmth  feel  good, 

And  dreary  winter,  blizzards,  storms, 
Lend  charms  to  summer  moods. 
198 


The  desert  waste  and  miles  of  sand 
Make  fertile  spots  more  bright, 

And  pearly  streams  'tween  banks  of  green 
Gives  now  a  new  delight. 

The  poor  man's  dime  more  pleasure  brings 

Than  dollars  to  the  heir, — 
While  wealth  is  oft  a  burden  borne, 

And  brings  a  world  of  care. 


SEMI-GODS. 

Says  Holy  Book,  "God's  sons  each  took 
Daughters  of  men  for  wives" ; 

From  this  strange  brace  "rose  giant  race"- 
Till  flood  cut  short  their  lives. 

The  Greeks  had  gods  and  semi-gods, 

Famed  heroes  of  the  earth ; 
Had  human  form,  from  mothers  born, 

Both  God  and  man  by  birth. 

These  legends  now  seem  strange,  I  trow, — 

But  not  to  them  of  old, 
When  every  wood  and  mount  had  brood 

Of  semi-gods,  we're  told. 

Then  is  it  strange  on  Bethlehem's  plain, 

In  this  heroic  age, — 
Came  One  by  birth  not  of  this  earth, 

As  told  on  sacred  page. 
199 


THE  VOICE  OF  CREATION. 

Shalt  Thou  not  speak  from  Thy  creation, 
From  the  works  that  Thou  hast  made  ? 

'Round  all  the  earth  is  Thy  formation, 
They  have  done  what  Thou  hast  bade. 

Then  don't  they  hear  Thy  voice  in  action, 
Don't  they  tell  what  Thou  hast  said ; 

If  rocks  can  hear,  and  all  creation, 
Can  our  hearts  be  dumb  and  dead? 

Like  unseen  air  that  moves  in  silence 

On  the  hill  tops  far  away, 
God  works  upon  our  inmost  conscience 

In  some  strange,  mysterious  way. 

And  then  the  storm  will  gather  o'er  us, 
The  lightning  flash  across  the  sky, 

Our  tears  will  pour  like  rain  before  us — 
God  of  mercy,  then  we  cry. 

Our  weeping  clears  the  sky  around  us, 
Sun  shines  out  so  bright  and  clear, 

The  rainbow  Hope  then  spans  above  us, 
Fills  our  hearts  with  light  and  cheer. 


200 


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